.fA'=l21 


THE 


PRODIGAL    SON 


BY 

The  Rev.  GEORGE  s/mOTT, 

PASTOR  OP  THE  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH  AT  NEWTON,  N.  J. 


r 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PRESBYTERIAN  BOARD  OF  PUBLICATION, 

No,  821  Chestnut  Street. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

THE    TRUSTEES    OF    THE 

PRESBYTERIAN  BOARD  OE  PUBLICATION, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District 
of  Pennsylvania. 

BTEREOTYPED  BY  'WILLIAM   W.  HARDING,   PHILADELPHU. 


TO   THE 


BELOVED  YOUTH  OF  MY  CHAEGE 

IS 

DEDICATED  BY  THEIR  PASTOR, 

IN  THE  HOPE  THAT  ALL  OF  THEM  MAT  BECOME  THE 
RECLAIMED  CHILDREN  OF  OUR 

J'at^er  in  '§znhn. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAOB 

I.  Man  at  Home,        .            .            .            •  .11 

II.  Man  Sinning,    .....  22 

III.  The  Young  Man  leaving  Home,  .             .  .31 

ly.  Bad  Company,  .....  46 

V.  Kuinous  Living,     .            .            .            .  .60 

VI.  The  "Way  of  the  Transgressor  is  hard,            .  69 

VII.  The  Prodigal  coming  to  himself,  or  Conviction 

of  Sin,               .            .            .             .  .84 

YIII.  Repentance,       .....  94 

IX.  The  Prodigal  Received  and  Welcome,      .  .  107 

X.  The  Elder  Brother,  or  the  Moral  Man,            .  123 

1  *  5 


IJN^TRODUCTIOJN^. 


This  little  book  makes  no  pretensions  to  learning.  It 
is  not  a  dissertation,  nor  a  commentary,  nor  reflections  on 
the  Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  It  is  simply  a  magni- 
fying of  the  life-sketch  of  man's  career,  which  our  Saviour 
drew.  It  is  an  enlargement  of  the  picture  of  sin  and  re- 
demption as  portrayed  in  this  Parable,  We  have  not 
gone  outside  of  the  narrative ;  but  have  endeavoured  to 
weave  everything  about  its  leading  threads. 

Pretending  to  no  originality,  save  in  the  combinations, 
we  have  availed  ourselves  of  whatever  material  lay  at 
hand.  Besides  the  commentaries  familiar  to  all,  it  is 
necessary  to  name  an  author  to  whom  we  are  greatly  in- 
debted. In  the  years  1860  and  '61,  a  series  of  articles 
on  the  Prodigal  Son  appeared  in  the  "Independent."  These 
were  from  the  pen  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tyng.  We  are  not  aware 
that  they  have  been  put  in  book  form.  From  them  we 
received  many  valuable  suggestions  and  a  few  illustrations; 
most  of  which,  if  not  all,  are  indicated  as  they  are  used. 

The  only  motive  in  presuming  to  place  this  book  before 
the  public,  is  the  hope,  and  earnest  prayer,  that  it  may  do 
good ;  especially  to  the  young.  Besides,  we  do  not  know 
of  any  work  on  the  Prodigal  Son  of  this  character. 

G.  S.  M. 
7 


THE   PARABLE. 


A  certain  man  had  two  sons;  and  the  younger  of  them 
said  to  his  father,  Father,  give  me  the  portion  of  goods 
that  falleth  to  me.  And  he  divided  unto  them  his  living. 
And  not  many  days  after,  the  younger  son  gathered  all 
together,  and  took  his  journey  into  a  far  country,  and 
there  wasted  his  substance  with  riotous  living.  And  when 
he  had  spent  all,  there  arose  a  mighty  famine  in  that  land  ; 
and  he  began  to  be  in  want,  and  he  went  and  joined  him- 
self to  a  citizen  of  that  country ;  and  he  sent  him  into 
his  fields  to  feed  swine.  And  he  would  fain  have  filled 
his  belly  with  the  husks  that  the  swine  did  eat ;  and  no 
man  gave  unto  him.  And  when  he  came  unto  himself, 
he  said.  How  many  hired  servants  of  my  father's  have 
bread  enough  and  to  spare,  and  I  perish  with  hunger !  I 
will  arise  and  go  to  my  father,  and  will  say  unto  him, 
Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and  before  thee, 
and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son ;  make  me 
as  one  of  thy  hired  servants.  And  he  arose  and  came  to 
his  father.  But  when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  ofi",  his 
father  saw  him,  and  had  compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his 
neck,  and  kissed  him.  And  the  son  said  unto  him.  Father, 
I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and  in  thy  sight,  and  am 
no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son.  But  the  father  said 
to  his  servants,  Bring  forth  the  best  robe,  and  put  it  on 
him  ;  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand,  and  shoes  on  his  feet : 
and  bring  hither  the  fatted  calf,  and  kill  it ;  and  let  us 
eat,  and  be  merry  :  for  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive 


10  THE    PARABLE. 

again  ;  he  was  lost,  and  is  found.  And  tliey  began  to  be 
merry.  Now  his  elder  son  was  in  the  field ;  and  as  he 
came  and  drew  nigh  to  the  house,  he  heard  music  and 
dancing.  And  he  called  one  of  the  servants,  and  asked 
what  these  things  meant.  And  he  said  unto  him,  Thy 
brother  is  come  ;  and  thy  father  hath  killed  the  fatted 
calf,  because  he  hath  received  him  safe  and  sound.  And 
he  was  angry,  and  would  not  go  in :  therefore  came  his 
father  out,  and  entreated  him.  And  he  answering  said 
to  his  father,  Lo,  these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  neither 
transgressed  I  at  any  time  thy  commandment :  and  yet 
thou  never  gavest  me  a  kid,  that  I  might  make  merry 
with  my  friends  :  but  as  soon  as  this  thy  son  was  come, 
which  hath  devoured  thy  living  with  harlots,  thou  hast 
killed  for  him  the  fatted  calf.  And  he  said  unto  him, 
Son,  thou  art  ever  with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine. 
It  was  meet  that  we  should  make  merry,  and  be  glad  :  for 
this  thy  brother  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again ;  and  was 
lost,  and  is  found. — Luke  xv.  11-32. 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MAN     AT     HOME. 

What  is  a  Parable  ?  It  is  not  to  be  confounded 
"with  a  Fable.  A  parable  is  constructed  to  set  forth 
a  spiritual  and  heavenly  truth.  A  fable  has  no 
higher  aim  than  to  inculcate  maxims  of  prudential 
morality,  caution,  and  foresight.  A  fable  often 
supposes  impossibilities,  as  that  animals  speak  and 
act  like  human  beings.  A  parable  has  no  such  im- 
possible persons  and  actions.  It  never  transgresses 
the  actual  order  of  natural  things.  A  parable  is 
deeply  earnest ;  severe  and  indignant  it  may  be, 
but  there  is  no  jesting  or  raillery  at  the  weakness, 
folly,  or  crimes  of  men.  The  parable  was  a  favourite 
mode  into  which  our  Saviour  threw  his  teachings. 
That  he  employed  such  a  mode  of  instructing,  is 
sufficient  evidence  of  its  value.  For  he  was  wise, 
not  only  in  thoughts,  but  likewise  in  his  modes  of 
thought.     *' Never  man  spake  like  this  man,"  need 


12  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

not  be  restricted  to  his  doctrines  ;  it  may  extend  to 
his  wonderful  facility  in  illustrating  and  enforcing 
those  doctrines. 

The  oriental  mind  douhtless  was  well  adapted  to 
such  figurative  language  ;  and  it  was  readily  under- 
stood by  them.  But  that  the  Holy  Spirit  hath  kept 
these  parables  for  us  to  read,  shows  that  they  are 
designed  for  minds  in  all  ages  of  the  world.  While 
skilful  interpreters  have  perverted  the  parables  in 
their  play  of  fancy,  and  wrought  them  almost  into 
fantastic  shapes  ;  doubtless  God's  people  have  made 
the  right  use  of  them  in  their  reading  of  the  word, 
and  have  drawn  from  them  the  designed  instruc- 
tion. 

Around  us  God  has  placed  visible  objects,  to  make 
known  "the  invisible  things  of  God," — a  ladder 
leading  us  up  to  the  contemplation  of  heavenly 
truth.  "  This  entire  moral  and  natural  world,  with 
its  kings  and  its  subjects,  its  parents  and  its  chil- 
dren, its  sun  and  its  moon,  its  sowing  and  its  harvest, 
its  light  and  its  darkness,  its  sleeping  and  its  wak- 
ing, its  births  and  its  deaths, — is,  from  beginning 
to  end  a  mighty  parable,  a  great  teaching  of  truth, 
a  help  at  once  to  our  faith  and  to  our  understand- 
ing."* Man  lost  the  key  of  knowledge,  which  re- 
vealed all  this.  His  wicked  heart  became  darkened. 
But  Christ  in  these  parables  reawakened  man  to 
this  knowledge.  At  his  touch  all  things  became 
new.  The  world  answered  with  strange  and  mar- 
•  Trench  on  Parables — Introduction. 


MAN   AT   HOME.  13 

vellous  correspondences  to  another  world  within 
man.  Hence  the  parables  rested  upon  substantial 
ground.  They  were  not  buildings  in  the  air,  or 
paintings  on  the  cloud. 

Christ  seldom  gave  doctrine  in  an  abstract  form. 
His  were  no  skeletons  of  truth,  but  all  clothed,  as 
it  were,  with  flesh  and  blood.  By  the  aid  of  the 
familiar  he  introduced  his  hearers  to  that  which 
was  strano^e.  And  there  is  a  natural  deli^^ht  which 
the  mind  has  in  this  manner  of  teaching  ;  appeal- 
ing, as  it  does,  not  only  to  the  understanding,  but 
to  the  feelings,  to  the  imagination,  and,  in  short,  to 
the  whole  soul,  calling  all  the  faculties  into  a  pleas- 
urable activity.  Things  thus  learned  with  delight 
are  longest  remembered. 

Nor  is  it  out  of  place  to  remark  here,  how  much 
the  parabolic  element  extends  through  Scripture ; 
not  only  as  the  spoken,  but  the  acted  parable.  Every 
type  was  a  parable.  The  whole  Levitical  constitu- 
tion, with  its  outer  court,  its  holy  place  and  holiest, 
its  high  priest  and  sacrifices,  each  separately  and 
all  combined,  were  parables,  teaching  religion  by 
ceremonies.  Some  would  continue  this.  But  as 
the  ministration  which  exceeds  in  glory  has  come, 
that  which  had  less  glory  is  done  away.  The  wan- 
dering of  the  children  of  Israel  has  ever  been  re- 
garded as  a  parable  of  the  spiritual  life.  So  many 
of  the  acts  of  Jeremiah  were  parables  acted.  He 
breaks  a  potter's  vessel,  to  foretell  the  complete  de- 
struction of  his  people.  He  wears  a  yoke  to  signify 


14  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

their  approaching  bondage.  He  redeems  a  field  to 
show  that  the  land  shall  again  be  possessed  by  its 
original  owners.  These  and  similar  acts  arrested 
attention  and  fastened  his  prophecies  in  the  mind ; 
just  as  "would  a  parable  of  words  teach  the  same 
truth. 

This  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  is  the  last  of 
three,  which  were  spoken  on  one  occasion.  They 
were  called  out  by  the  circumstances  of  the  moment, 
as  were  many  of  our  Lord's  discourses.  He  was 
surrounded  by  publicans  and  sinners ;  who  had 
been  drawn  to  him  by  his  large-heartedness.  He 
had  none  of  the  prejudice  against  them  which  the 
Pharisee  manifested.  He  went  to  their  houses.  He 
was  entertained  by  them.  All  this  had  given  offence 
to  the  strict  religionist.  And  as  they  saw  these 
publicans  and  unclean  ones  crowd  about  Jesus,  their 
ill-concealed  dislike  broke  out  in  the  low-toned 
sneer,  which  ran  from  one  to  another — "This  man 
receiveth  sinners  and  eateth  with  them."  To  check 
[  this  pride,  which  was  elevating  them  above  their 
fellow-sinners,  Christ  speaks  three  parables.  And 
^  in  all  of  them  the  love  of  G-od  toward  the  sinner  is 
'  the  key-note.  That  love  will  not  let  man  perish  in 
the  wilderness,  but  finds  him  and  brings  him  home. 
That  love  will  not  let  man  lie  buried  in  rubbish  as  a 
coin,  but  hunts  diligently  until  he  is  found.  That 
love  receives  him  with  kisses,  and  welcomes  him 
with  gifts,  as  soon  as  he  returns  to  God ;  though, 
like  the  prodigal,  he  has  abused  a  Father's  good- 


MAN  AT   UOME.  15 

ness.  And  now  the  inference  to  these  Pharisees 
"was,  they  were  not  to  call  common  or  unclean  those 
whom  God  would  receive ;  and  over  whom  angels 
would  rejoice.  And  thus  silently,  this  joy  of 
heaven  is  contrasted  with  the  bigoted  and  envious 
repinings  which  so  abounded  in  their  hearts.  These 
parables  together  form  a  perfect  and  harmonious 
whole.  In  the  first — that  of  the  lost  sheep — we 
have  depicted  the  helplessness  of  man,  his  bewilder- 
ment in  a  desert,  and  his  inability  to  find  his  way 
back  to  the  fold.  In  the  second — that  of  the  lost 
money — we  have  asserted  the  claim  of  God  upon 
man.  As  the  coin  was  the  money  of  the  woman,  so 
are  men  the  subjects  of  Jehovah.  They  are  his, 
because,  like  the  coin,  they  bear  his  image  and 
superscription  in  their  souls,  which  are  his  breath ; 
and  in  their  bodies,  which  are  his  handiwork.  To 
stop  here,  would  be  an  incomplete  description.  It 
would  give  only  the  Godward  side,  what  he  does  to 
man,  and /or  man.  Therefore  in  the  third  parable 
— that  of  the  prodigal — we  have  those  emotions 
which  are  awakened  in  man's  soul,  and  the  feelings 
wherewith  he  draws  near  this  loving  God.  It  speaks 
of  his  changed  heart.  For  God  does  not  forcibly 
carry  men  to  heaven,  as  the  sheep  was  borne  by  the 
shepherd.  They  arise  and  go  to  the  Father.  They 
come  to  Christ. 

No  one  parable  furnishes  so  wide  a  range  of  in- 
struction as  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  It 
has  been  denominated  "The  Gospel  within  a  Gos- 


16  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

pel."  It  furnishes  the  preacher  of  Christ  with  a 
model  discourse ;  and  according  to  the  various 
parts  of  it,  he  is  to  present  the  truth.  It  is  a  uni- 
versal text  for  preaching  ahout  the  lost  and  re- 
covered sons  of  our  heavenly  Father.  Head  the 
parable,  and  remark  how  admirably  it  is  adapted  to 
an  awakened  soul.  We  have  thought  that  our  Lord 
caused  this  parable  to  be  preserved,  that  it  might  be 
a  guiding-star  to  a  soul  bestormed  on  the  ocean  of 
religious  inquiry ;  cast  about  by  adverse  winds  of 
doubt ;  heavily  laden  even  to  the  water's  edge  with 
transgressions  ;  and  wearied  by  painful  watchings, 
and  unsuccessful  labours.  The  parable  first  presents 
man  at  home,  in  the  Father's  house  of  plenty  and 
happiness.  Then  in  the  heart  is  born  the  desire  to 
wander.  This  desire  grows  in  power  until  the  sep- 
aration is  effected.  Then  away  to  sin  man  hastens. 
He  plunges  deeply  into  the  waters  of  crime.  He 
destroys  his  body,  he  blasts  his  prospects,  he  corrupts 
his  heart.  He  sees,  he  feels  his  degradation  and 
misery.  He  longs  for  a  better  condition.  All  this 
the  awakened  sinner  can  appreciate.  Every  word 
comes  home  to  his  heart.  But  how  is  he  to  get  back  ? 
This  question  the  parable  answers.  It  shows  the 
willingness  of  the  Father  to  receive,  if  the  sinner  will 
come  with  a  penitent  heart.  To  be  a  complete  gospel, 
this  parable  needs  only  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  a 
Saviour.  And  yet  he  who  spake  this  parable  was  that 
Saviour.  The  hearers  did  not  require  that  he  should 
mention  himself  when  he  stood  before  them. 


MAN    AT    HOME.  17 

How  simple  and  yet  how  profound  is  this  whole 
narrative !  IIow  transparently  artless  as  a  chapter  of 
human  life !  and  yet  how  full  of  mystery  as  a  revela- 
tion of  the  mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  !  How 
perfectly  natural  is  the  picture  as  a  whole !  AVe 
read  ourselves  and  our  thoughts  in  every  line. 
With  what  dramatic  power  is  all  related,  so  that 
every  clause  suggests  in  itself  a  whole  history ! 
With  what  force  does  every  word  arrest  the  con- 
science, and  suggest  to  the  reader — Thou  art  that 
prodigal !  We  all  find  ourselves  reproduced  in  this 
parable;  either  as  we  have  become,  or  as  zue  have 
ever  been,  or  as  we  hope  and  endeavour  to  be — re- 
turned  prodigals.  Well  may  it  be  termed  the  crown  7^ 
and  pearl  of  the  parables  of  Scripture.  \ 

The  parable  opens  with  a  most  delightful  scene  /  ' 
— a  happy  home.  It  was  a  home  of  refinement  and  ( 
peace.  A  father  is  represented  as  dwelling  in 
abundance  with  his  two  sons.  He  was  able  and 
willing  to  supply  all  their  wants.  There  was  no  ne- 
cessity for  them  to  go  abroad  in  search  of  employ- 
ment. The  paternal  acres  and  herds  and  stores  of 
wealth  were  ample  for  them  all  through  their  lives. 
He  was  a  father  of  great  tenderness  and  love,  and 
was  deeply  concerned  in  the  well-being  of  his  chil- 
dren. This  is  manifest  from  his  readiness  to  receive 
the  younger  son  after  his  profligate  career.  The 
father  was  not  wrathful  and  impetuous,  but  greatly 
considerate  of  the  frailties  of  his  sons.  This  is  seen 
in  his  calm  and  gentle  rebuke  of  the  elder  brother. 


18  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

In  this  Tve  cannot  doubt  the  Lord's  intention  to 
describe  the  original  condition  of  man.  To  us,  at 
least,  it  is  highly  significant  of  the  home,  in  which 
man  spent  a  few  of  his  first  days.  God  called  that 
home  Eden,  which  signifies  delight,  tenderness,  love- 
liness.. It  was  heaven  on  earth.  It  was  as  much 
like  heaven,  in  its  adaptedness  to  produce  happi- 
ness, as  the  state  of  man  would  admit.  There  was 
no  need  for  Adam  to  look  wistfully  beyond  its  lim- 
its for  good  ;  because  all  good  was  contained  within 
its  enclosure.  Enough  was  there  for  all  his  wants, 
and  even  for  the  enlarged  capacity  of  his  soul,  made 
after  the  likeness  of  God  in  knowledge,  righteous- 
ness, and  holiness.  And  the  Father  was  there. 
God  came  into  that  Eden.  He  conversed  amid  its 
groves  with  our  first  parents — angels  probably  vis- 
ited that  heaven  below.  Not  so  kind  and  conside- 
rate was  the  father  in  the  parable,  as  was  God  to 
these  his  first-born  earthly  children. 

Those  sons  in  the  parable  had  never  known  want. 
Their  early  years  were  not  embittered  with  penury. 
They  were  never  cold  and  hungry.  And  '•'  Adam 
could  no  sooner  see,  than  he  saw  himself  happy."  * 
The  first  emotions  of  his  soul  were  those  of  joy. 
He  saw  "  heaven  above  him,  earth  beneath  him,  the 
creatures  around  him,  and  God  before  him.  He 
knew  what  all  these  things  meant,  as  if  he  had  been 
long  acquainted  with  them."  *  Those  sons  in  the 
parable  had  been  protected  from  the  evils  of  bad 
*  Hall's  Contemplations. 


MAN  AT   HOME.  10 

example.  No  profanity  had  fallen  from  tlie  father's 
lips.  His  conduct  had  not  taught  them  to  break 
the  Sabbath.  They  had  never  seen  him  at  the"^ 
gaming-table,  or  with  the  wine  cup  of  intoxication. 
Assiduously  he  had  set  them  an  example  of  sobriety, 
honesty,  and  piety.  And  our  first  parents  had  only 
that  which  was  lovely  and  pure  spread  about  them. 
Angels  were  their  companions ;  God  talked  with  them. 
Uncorrupted  thoughts  filled  their  hearts.  The 
beasts  of  the  field  were  there,  but  from  them  they 
learned  nothing  that  was  unholy.  The  sweet  war- 
bles of  birds  were  an  harmonious  accompani- 
ment to  the  melody  of  their  own  songs  of  praise. 
And  why,  in  this  blissful  abode,  could  they  not  have  J- 
been  content  ?  It  might  have  been  a  habitation  of 
permanent  enjoyment  and  rest.  Oh,  woeful  hour  ! 
when  they  were  tempted  to  look  elsewhere  than  to 
God  for  pleasure ! 

The  sons  in  the  parable  were  either  minors,  or,  ^ 
having  attained  their  majority,  they  still  abode  at 
home,  as  anticipating  the  possession  of  their  father's 
estate.  So  that  it  was  in  the  father's  power  to  dis--r- 
inherit  them,  if  they  off'ended  him.  Precisely  thus 
was  man  situated  in  that  happy  home  of  Eden. 
The  father  had  not  given  him  the  deed  to  that  bliss- 
ful abode.  It  should  be  his,  but  only  on  the  con- 
dition of  perfect  obedience.  He  was  on  trial.  One 
hour  of  sin,  even  a  single  transgression,  might  dash 
to  the  ground  his  expectations.  The  trial  took  the 
shape  of  a  positive  command.     He  might  eat  of 


20  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

everything  save  the  fruit  from  one  tree.  To  touch 
'^that  was  to  lose  his  heritage.  It  is  not  worthwhile 
here  to  discuss  the  reason  of  that  command.  There 
was  a  cause  for  it.  Children  situated  as  were  the 
sons  in  the  parable,  would  be  careful  not  to  incur 
the  displeasure  of  their  father.  Self-interest,  if 
^  nothing  else,  would  make  them  dutiful.  And  yet 
this  younger  son  was  reckless.  He  was  so  bold  as 
to  demand  his  share  of  the  estate  before  the  father's 
death.  Could  any  act  be  more  imprudent  ?  Was 
not  this  almost  a  certain  way  to  be  disowned  ?  And 
thus  reckless  was  Adam.  He  must  have  known 
that  God  could  not  be  trifled  with.  The  very  tree 
reminded  him  of  his  duty.  One  would  think  that 
Eve's  hand  would  have  dropped  nerveless,  ere  she 
had  half  way  reached  to  the  fruit.    And  yet,  with  the 

>^  threat  right  before  them,  they  disobeyed. 

And  we  are  here  on  trial.  God  is  giving  us  a 
chance  for  eternal  bliss.  A  rich  "inheritance 
among  the  saints  in  glory"  is  the  promised  posses- 
sion of  all  who  do  the  will  of  God.  That  is  ours, 
on  the  condition  that  we  become  the  sons  of  God  by 
faith  and  holy  living.  On  our  becoming  Christ's, 
hang  the  future  glories  of  heaven  for  us.  How 
solemn  then  the  position  we  are  placed  in  !  Upon 
the   decision   we   make   in    this   brief    period   of 

yf^  life,  depends  our  eternal  state.  And  yet  how 
reckless  we  are !  Men  live  in  open  violation  of 
God's  laws,  laugh  at  his  providences,  and  grow 
bold  and  blasphemous  in  their  opposition  to  heaven. 


MAN   AT   HOME.  21 

What  greater  recklessness  can  we  conceive  ?  Do 
we  wash  our  hands  from  such  a  charge  ?  Still 
there  may  be  recklessness  in  us,  equally  fatal, 
though  not  so  daring.  He  is  reckless  who  delays  % 
his  soul's  salvation.  He  is  reckless  who,  witnessing 
death  on  every  side,  fails  to  prepare  for  his  own 
death.  He  is  reckless  who  lives  without  the  love 
of  God  in  his  heart,  and  without  a  well-grounded 
hope  in  Christ  as  a  Saviour. 


22  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MANSINNING. 

A  certain  man  had  two  sons  :  and  the  younger  of 
them  said  to  his  father^  Father^  give  me  the  portion 
of  goods  that  falleth  to  me.  And  he  divided  unto 
them  his  living. 

In  this  world  nothing  is  too  sacred  or  solemn  to 
keep  out  Satan.  Israel  was  tempted  and  fell  at  the 
very  foot  of  Sinai.  Immediately  after  the  consecra- 
tion of  Aaron  and  his  sons  to  the  priestly  office, 
there  occurred  the  sacrilegious  conduct  of  Nadab 
and  Abihu.  At  the  institution  of  the  Lord's  sup- 
per, Satan  entered  into  the  heart  of  Judas.  And 
he  entered  into  the  heart  of  the  younger  son  of  this 
blessed  family,  who  said,  "  Father,  give  me  the  por- 
tion of  goods  that  falleth  to  me."  What  selfish- 
ness !  How  great  a  disregard  of  the  feelings  of  his 
father !  How  totally  insensible  had  he  become  to 
the  past  and  present  kindness  of  that  father  !  All 
the  patient  watchings  in  infancy,  and  the  guidance 
through  boyhood,  all  this  treasure  of  affection  and 
love  he  repays  with  ingratitude. 

*'  Sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 
To  have  a  thankless  child." 


MAN   SINNING.  23 

Similar  Ingratitude  and  folly  characterized  the 
conduct  of  the  first  children  of  God  in  Eden.  The 
Lord  God  had  done  everything  to  render  them 
happy.  Peace  and  plenty  surrounded  them.  lie 
was  their  Father.  He  loved  them,  and  they  loved^^ 
him.  They  should  have  continued  in  that  love. 
The  basest  ingratitude,  the  most  unfilial  disregard 
of  the  Father,  and  an  utter  recklessness  of  all  con- 
sequences, excite  our  indignation  and  pity,  in  the 
case  of  the  prodigal,  and  of  that  other  prodigal — 
our  father  Adam. 

Do  we  wonder  how  Adam  could  sin  in  such  a 
paradise  ?  Do  we  stand  aghast  at  his  ingratitude  ? 
Ah !  what  he  did  in  his  first  chosen  course  of  dis- 
obedience, each  wandering  child  of  man  repeats 
again,  in  his  own  individual  experiment.  A  savage  ^ 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean  one  day  went  into  the  cabin  of 
a  trading  ship.  His  curiosity  was  excited  by  the 
many  new  objects  around  him,  which  he  examined 
with  interest.  At  length  he  saw  a  mirror  upon  the 
wall.  He  approached  and  looked  at  it;  and  there ^ 
he  beheld  himself  for  the  first  time,  in  all  his  hide- 
ousness.  He  took  only  one  view,  and  then  fl.ed  in 
the  utmost  consternation.  So  this  conduct  of  the 
prodigal  is  a  sketch  from  life.  In  him  we  see  our- 
selves. It  tells  us  what  we  have  done,  or  are  now 
doing.  Every  man  in  whom  love  to  God  has  no 
existence,  is  a  prodigal  son.  Like  him,  he  does  not 
return  love  for  love.  He  is  pushing  away  the  hand  .-t^. 
which  has  protected  him  all  his  life.     He  is  stop- 


24  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

ping  his  ears  to  the  entreaties  of  a  Father,  who  is 
pained  at  his  obstinacy.  He  is  not  under  the  pa- 
ternal roof.  He  is  unreconciled  to  God.  Is  not 
this  re-enacting  the  prodigal  ? 

The  prodigal's  sin  began  in  his  heart.  When  he 
said,  "  Give  me  the  portion  of  goods  that  falleth  to 
me,"  he  expressed  only  what  had  long  been  forming  in 
his  mind.  The  desire  originated  at  first  as  a  mere 
suggestion,  which  he  banished  with  horror.  But  it 
came  again  and  again,  and  he  parleyed  with  it. 
Bunyan,  in  his  Holy  War,  describes  some  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  well-fortified  town  of  Mansoul,  as 
talking  over  the  wall  with  enemies  who  were  be- 
sieging the  place,  although  this  was  strictly  forbid- 
den by  the  Prince.  And  by  these  talks  over  the 
wall,  those  citizens  were  poisoned  in  their  minds  to- 
wards the  Prince,  and  rendered  discontented.  The 
prodigal  talked  with  this  desire  to  forsake  his  fa- 
ther, until  his  mind  became  alienated.  He  wanted 
to  be  his  own  master — 

"  Lord  of  himself — that  heritage  of  woe." 

yi  This  desire  grew  into  a  determination,  which  was 
carried  out,  when  he  said — "Father,  give  me  the 
portion  of  goods  that  falleth  to  me." 

The  wandering  of  the  heart  is  but  little  con- 
sidered ;  yet  there  the  straying  path  begins.  We 
devote  our  strength  to  acts  and  words,  but  not 
enough  to  thoughts  and  desires.  We  are  not  as 
deeply  impressed  with  the  fact  that  wicked  thoughts 


MAN   SINNING.  25 

ai:^^siiijasj5DSL.axg.,lliat  wicked  a.ci3  are  sinful.  While 
we^denounce  evil  deeds,  we  palliate  the  corrupt  desire. 
But^irist  reversed  this  judgment.  He  laid  bare 
the  heart,  and  showed  how /row  it  came  evil  deeds. 
His  heaviest  curses  were  directed  to  sins  of  the 
heart.  The  sin  of  unbeliefs  which  is  a  sin  of  the 
heart,  meets  a  heavier  doom  than  Sodom's  lewdness 
and  open  vice.  "It  shall,  be  more  tolerable  for 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  in  the  day  of  judgment  than 
for  Bethsaida  and  Chorazin,"  who  heard  but  refused 
to  believe  the  gospel. 

Too  much  we  allow  wayward  and  unhallowed  de- 
sires to  tarry  in  our  hearts.  An  evil  desire  assails 
a  young  man — to  take  advantage  of  one's  ignorance 
in  trade,  to  yield  to  a  sinful  indulgence,  to  do  any- 
thing disreputable.  He  does  not  at  once  commit 
the  sin,  but  he  talks  with  it  over  the  luall.  Beware ! 
danger  lurks  in  that  parley.  To  be  safe,  like 
Ulysses'  sailors,  when  the  songs  of  the  Syrens  first 
w^ere  heard,  he  must  stop  his  ears.  Desires  will 
wander  in.  They  will  fly  over  the  walls.  Needful 
then  the  exhortation  of  Solomon — "Keep  thy  heart 
with  all  diligence,  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of 
Jife." 

And  what  an  alarming  thought  this  truth  presents 
to  Christian  parents  !  They  may  do  all  in  their  ^^ 
power  to  keep  defilement  and  bad  example  away 
from  their  households ;  yet  they  cannot  keep  sin 
out  of  the  hearts  of  their  children.  Temptation 
will  assail  them  outside  the  household  walls.  Evil 
3 


26  THE   PRODIGAL    SON. 

and   corruption  they  will  encounter   in  the  world. 
How  shall  all  this  be  counteracted?     Cultivate  their 

">t  hearts.  Sow  unsparingly  the  seeds  of  good  desires. 
Fortify  them  in  their  hearts  against  temptation. 
And,  what  is  surest  of  all,  labour  and  pray  for  their 
early  conversion. 
^  Sin  does  not  confine  itself  long  in  the  heart. 
When  unresisted  appetite  is  allowed  to  rage,  and  no 
covenant  is  made  with  the  eyes,  at  last  the  outward 
manifestation  comes.  The  utterance,  "  Give  me  the 
portion  of  goods  that  falleth  to  me,"  is  the  first 
fruits  of  wandering.  The  seed  was  the  desire  cher- 
ished in  the  heart,  "  Give  me."     In  this  is  expressed 

4r-  the  discontent  of  the  son.  He  was  no  longer  willing 
that  his  share  of  the  property  should  be  in  his 
father's  control.  He  wanted  to  use  it  as  freely  as 
he  chose,  and  in  the  way  which  suited  him.  He 
was  impatient.  He  could  not  wait  until  Providence 
put  him  in  possession  of  the  coveted  wealth.  He 
must  run  in  advance  of  God,  and  have  his  money 
noiv.     Such  discontent  and  impatience  lurks  in  all 

^  our  hearts.  We  want  to  enjoy  life,  and  we  have 
our  own  notion  of  what  is  enjoyment.  However,  we 
lack  the  material  which  is  to  constitute  that  enjoy- 
ment, and  our  cry  is,  Crive  me  the  portion.  Men 
think  they  have  a  right  as  creatures  to  expect  from 
the  Creator  their  portion  of  goods:  and  because 
they  do  not  receive  it  they  repine.  And  they  are 
in  a  hurry.  Providence  moves  too  slowly.  They 
want  the  coveted  portion  to-day. 


MAN   SINNING.  27 

All  this  manifests  a  desire  to  be  independent  of 
God.  This  was  the  germ  of  Adam's  sin.  It  was 
the  moving  cause  of  the  great  rebellion  in  heaven. 
Thus  Milton  puts  it,  in  those  words  which  Satan 
addresses  to  the  angels: 

"  Will  ye  submit  your  necks,  and  choose  to  bend 
The  supple  knee  ?     Ye  will  not,  if  I  trust 
To  know  ye  right,  or  if  ye  know  yourselves, 
Natives  and  sons  of  heaven  !" 

Adam  wanted  to  be  "as  gods,  knowing  good  and 
evil."  He  fretted  under  this  restraint  of  his  Maker. 
What  though  all  the  trees  of  the  garden  were  his 
to  use  and  enjoy,  one  was  not ;  and  that  one  denial 
was  more  painful  than  were  all  his  privileges  pleas- 
urable. 

This  repeats  itself  in  every  child  of  Adam.  It 
begins  in  childhood.  Your  little  boy  attempts  very 
soon  to  assert  his  independence  of  you.  He  tries 
to  break  through  the  restraints  which  you  impose. 
How  he  hankers  after  that  forbidden  thing  !  How 
often  he  disobeys  you  wilfully  !  And,  dear  reader, 
as  you  have  watched  and  been  pained  at  this  mani- 
festation of  independence  of  you,  has  it  never  oc- 
curred to  your  mind  that  the  proverb  was  meeting 
its  fulfilment,  "  Like  father  like  child ;"  that  as 
your  child  treats  you,  you  are  treating  your  Father 
in  heaven  ?  That  what  is  done  in  your  household 
is  ever  being  enacted  in  God's  great  family  ?  Do 
1/ou  never  break  over  the  restraints  which  a  wise 
Father  imposes  ?     Are  you  not  now  doing  what  he 


28  THE   PRODIGAL    SON. 

forbids  ?     Is  not  your  condition  this  hour  most  un- 
^j    fili^?     Your~owfi'1iouseKold  is  a  parable,  teaching 
you  the   will  of  your  Father  in  heaven.     Reason 
from   what  you   require  of  your   children,  to  what 
God  demands  of  you.     Do  to   God   as  you  expect 
your  children  to  do  to  you,  and  you  will  cease  to  be 
a  prodigal  son. 
jf"  There  is  another  feature  of  the  prodigal's  con- 
duct, which  presents  a  practical  lesson.     He  wanted 
his  share  of  the  estate  before  the  death  of  Ms  father. 
This  shows  that  he  cared  more  for  the  money  than 
for  his  father.     Alas  !  that  gold  and  silver  should 
so  debase  the  soul.     And  yet  it  is  no  unusual  thing. 
Somewhere  in  every  person's  heart  abideth  such  a 
serpent.     Our  thoughts  too  often  are  on  the  wealth 
which  the  Father  has  placed  all  around  us.     We 
forget  him  in  our  desire  to  secure  ou?*  "  portion  of 
goods."     As  this  younger  son  ungratefully  turned 
from  his  father  to  his  father's  money,  so  do  we  omit 
the  love  and  duties  which  God  requires,  and  become 
absorbed  in  the  profit  and  loss  of  this  world.     In 
many  hearts  regard  for  God  is  as  wholly  wanting 
as  was  filial  love  in  the  prodigal.     The  entire  bent 
of  the  soul  is  to  the  things  of  this  life.     With  a  sel- 
fish and  heart-hardening  zeal  they  bestow  their  days 
and  their  thoughts,  their  body  and  their  soul,  to 
gold  and  silver — God  scarcely  receives  a  passing 
thought. 

Another  important  aspect  of  the  prodigal's  con- 
r  duct  must  not  be  overlooked, — his  tvilfulness.    There 


MAN    SINNING.  29 

was  no  excuse  for  him.  His  father  was  a  most  lov- 
ing parent,  and  did  all  he  could  for  the  happiness 
of  his  children.  This  wilfulness  of  the  prodigal  is 
the  discriminating  fact  in  this  parable,  as  compared 
with  the  two  preceding,  which  also  represent  man 
as  lost.  The  sheep  went  astray,  but  it  was  an  un- 
conscious wandering.  The  piece  of  silver  was  lost, 
but  who  was  to  blame  ?  Not  it,  for  it  could  not  lose 
itself.  But  the  lost  son  wanders  of  his  own  accord. 
One  ignorant  of  man's  history,  finding  him  astray, 
would  not  know  how  he  came  so.  This  story  intro-  al 
duces  the  absent  part.  Man  wandered,  first  in  his 
heart,  and  then  in  his  acts.  Wherever  he  is  seen 
away  from  God,  away  from  the  path  of  virtue,  holi-  ^ 
ness,  and  peace,  he  is  a  voluntary  exile.  "  Thou-^ 
hast  destroyed  thyself'  is  a  Cain's  mark  branded 
on  his  soul.  Man  is  lost  deliberately.  He  rushes 
on  to  hell,  looking  at  the  flames,  and  hearing  the 
cries  of  agony.  The  Spirit  of  God  calls  on  him  to 
atop.  Minister  and  Christian  friends  implore  him 
to  turn  from  his  evil  ways,  but  he  will  not.  He 
pursues  the  course  of  his  own  appetites,  and  bears 
the  responsibility  of  his  own  choice. 

There  was  stupidity  and  ignorance  in  the  sheep.  / 
There  was  unconscious  helplessness  in  the  money 
buried  out  of  sight.  But  in  the  wandering  son  / 
there  was  chosen  rebellion  and  ingratitude.  And 
the  like  is  true  of  every  sinner.  IIeJ,s  a  sinner  by 
choice,  because  he  ivants  to  be  such.  Reader  !  do 
you  start  up  and  inquire  of  me,  "  Do  you  not  hold 
3  • 


30  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

that  man  is  born  with  a  sinful  nature?"  Yes. 
*'  How  then  can  I  be  called  a  toilful  wanderer,  when 
■/I  was  born  with  the  wanderino;  in  mv  heart?" 
From  this  position  of  original  sin,  we  ask  you  to 
step  to  actual  transgression.  And  what  have  you 
now  to  say  ?  "  Well,  does  not  the  depravity  of  my 
heart  lead  to  these  actual  transgressions  V  Without 
doubt.  But  that  does  not  help  you.  For  you  hiow 
better  when  you  commit  these  transgressions.  You 
are  a  wilful  sinner,  because  you  sin  with  open  eyes 
and  an  instructed  mind.  You  are  not  an  idiot  nor 
a  fool.  What!  .can  you  assert  that  one  who  has 
always  had  a  Bible  at  his  elbow ;  who  has  gone  to 
church  Sabbath  after  Sabbath;  who  has  had  exam- 
ples of  godliness  all  around  him ;  who  was  taught 
to  pray  at  his  mother's  knee,  and  from  his  mother's 
lips  learned  the  ten  commandments — can  such  an 
one  say  he  is  not  a  wilful  transgressor,  when  he 
quits  the  path  of  virtue  and  godliness,  and  walks  in 
the  way  of  his  own  heart,  and  not  in  the  way  of  the 
Lord  ?     What  is  voluntary  sin,  if  it  be  not  that  ? 


THE   YOUNG    MAN   LEAVING    HOME.  31 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   YOUNG   MAN   LEAVING   HOME. 

And  not  many  days  after ^  the  younger  son  gathered 
all  together,  and  took  his  journey  into  a  far  country. 

Next  to  the  Bible,  the  greatest  blessing  and  safe- 
guard enjoyed  by  the  Saxon  race,  is  hojne.  You 
find  no  homes  in  Italy,  Spain,  or  France.  Cer- 
tainly they  are  not  in  India,  China,  nor  the  isles 
of  the  ocean.  Poets  have  sung  of  home,  and  the 
pulpit  has  explained  and  enforced  its  duties.  Much 
has  been  written  about  it,  but  none  too  much.  Foi* 
the  home  of  England  and  America  is  fast  losing  its 
peculiar  features,  which  have  hitherto  made  it  a 
blessing.  Hotel  life  and  boarding-house  life  are 
rapidly  taking  the  place  of  the  dear  home  of  olden 
days. 

Some  of  my  readers,  who  are  away  from  home, 
can  call  up,  daguerreotyped  in  memory,  that  happy 
place  which  was  the  home  of  their  childhood.  It 
did  not  seem  so  happy  then  as  it  does  now  when  we 
look  back  upon  it  from  this  distance.  For  the  older 
we  grow,  the  dearer  seems  the  home  of  boyhood  and 
girlhood.     Other    scenes    which    we    pass    through 


32  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

grow  indistinct  as  years  increase ;  but  home,  like 
the  horizon,  always  preserves  the  same  distinctness. 

"  Man  through  all  ages  of  revolving  time, 
Unchanging  man  in  every  varying  clime, 
Deems  his  own  land  of  every  land  the  pride. 
Beloved  by  Heaven  o'er  all  the  world  beside ; 
His  home,  the  spot  of  earth  supremely  blest, 
A  dearer,  sweeter  spot  than  all  the  rest." 

Happy !  thrice  happy !  are  those  who  have  had 
a  home  in  which  to  be  trained.  No  matter  how 
humble  that  home,  nor  how  defective  the  training 
there,  it  was  vastly  better  than  to  grow  up  without 
such  a  shelter.  We  do  not  know  how  much  we  are 
indebted  to  the  protection  which  home  afforded  our 
early  days.  Cast  out  the  new-born  lamb  on  a 
March  morning  ;  it  will  crawl  to  the  shielding  fence 
and  live.  Plant  a  sapling  on  the  highway,  and  de- 
spite the  gnawing  teeth  of  the  passing  beast,  and 
the  untimely  trimming  of  the  school-boy,  it  will 
grow  and  bear  fruit.  But  let  the  little  child  wander 
about,  without  ever  learning  that  sweet  word  home  ; 
let  him  get  a  crust  at  your  door,  and  a  drink  from 
th.e_brook  ;  pinched  with  hunger :  struck  by  every 
cruel  hand  ;  without  words  of  counsel  or  sympathy  ; 
tluis_beat.^bout  on  the  waves  of  life  let  him  grow ; 
aniLneed  we  wonder  that  at  an  early  age  he  swings 
^a~-the  gallows  ?  The  poor  children  of  crime  which 
we  encounter  at  any  corner  in  our  cities,  are  to  be 
pitied  because  they  are  homeless^  or  as  bad  as  home- 


THE   YOUNG    MAN   LEAVING    HOME.  33 

less.  It  is  no  surprise  that  the  State's  Prison  soon  be- 
c^mes^  their  home..  A  ^reat  obs.tacle  in  the  recla- 
mation of  the  criminal  and  outcast,  is  that  they 
have  no  home  to  live  in.  Blessed  is  the  child  to 
whom  God  gives  a  good  home.  And  if  in  that 
home  there  be  a  kind  father,  and  one  whom  you  can 
caTrT>y'that  heavenly  word,  mother^  and  loving  sis- 
ters, I  charge  you,  young  man,  before  God  and 
men,  do  not  leave  that  home  without  full  cause. 

All,  however,  cannot  remain  at  home.  Some 
leave  necessarily;  but  others,  because,  like  the 
prodigal,  they  love  to  wander.  No  lawful  pleasure 
Jiad  been  denied  Hiis  younger  son,  yet  a  desire  for 
a  freer  life,  and  larger  JndJllg£UJCJ&5  had  sprung  up 
within  him.  A  home  of  plenty,  a  father's  favour,  a 
mother's  care,  a  sister's  tenderness,  have  become 
too.  tame  for  HTs  distempered  imagination  and  riot- 
ous blood.  He  wants  to  be  out  of  his  father's 
house,  and  beyond  his  discipline.  He_loathes  this 
everlasting  preaching  about  his  conduct.  He  can- 
not stay  in  the  neighbourhood.  He  must  get  so  far 
off  that  noj-eports  of  his  evil  career  shall  come  back. 
Just  such  folly  there  is  in  multitudes  of  young  men, 
w^ho  are  impatient  of  the  restrictions  of  home  and 
friends.  And  they  never  think  themselves  free, 
and  their  own  masters,  until  they  have  broken  all 
God's  bands  in  sunder,  and  bound  themselves  with 
their  own  lusts.  They  cease  not,  and  in  the  end 
break  their  mother's  heart,  and  suffuse  their  sister's 
cheeks  with  shame. 


34  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

This  propensity  to  seek  pleasure  away  from  the 
family  hearth,  early  developes  itself  in  young  per- 
sons, particularly  in  young  men.  And  it  is  the  first 
ste^  to  ruin.  I  find  pleasant  homes,  around  whose 
cheerful  fireside  the  mother,  and  the  father,  and  the 
sisters  gather,  and  peace  and  quiet  crown  the  eve- 
ning ;  but  I  do  not  see  the  brothers  there.  Evening 
after  evening  they  are  absent,  and  until  a  late  hour 
of  the  night.  They  are  seeking  pleasure  in  theatres, 
in  revellings,  in  the  billiard  saloon,  in  the  gambler's 
den,  in  the  bar-room,  in  the  house  of  the  strange 
woman.  When  I  find  a  young  man  habitually 
absent  from  the  family-circle  in  the  evening,  whose 
occupation  does  not  call  him  away,  I  put  down  his 
name  on  the  list  of  those  who  are  on  the  road  to 
ruin.  When  I  walk  through  a  town  in  the  middle 
of  an  evening,  and  find  lads  hallowing  and  running 
about  the  streets,  assailing  my  ears  with  oaths  and 
obscenity,  clustering  on  hotel  stoops  and  at  the  cor- 
ners ;  I  conclude  that  these  boys  are  young  prodi- 
gals.^ Tkey  are  taking  the  first  step  in  his  career. 
They  are  being  weaned  from  home.  They  are  learn- 
ing to  love  the  rudeness  and  wickedness  which  shun 
daylight,  rather  than  the  gentler  amusements  which 
ar«  found  in  the  family  circle.  They  are  learning 
the  pleasures  of  sin,  before  they  have  experienced 
the  delights  of  home.  And  it  is  only  God's  pre- 
venting grace  which  will  keep  them  from  disgracing 
their  parents  and  ruining  their  prospects  for  life. 

Oh  that,  with  far-reaching  voice,  I  could  get  the 


THE   YOUNG    MAN    LEAVING    HOME.  35 

ear  of  every  parent  in  our  land  !  I  would  say  to 
them,  make  home  jiltractive.  Make  it_^  magnet. 
Study  to  please  your  sons  while  there.  Tax  your 
mind^  if  need  be,  that  you  may  present  inducements 
which  shall  make  them  love  to  be  where  you  are. 
Let  no  rebuffs,  or  indifference,  or  coldness  make 
them  prefer  the  fumes  of  the  saloon  to  the  icy  at- 
mosphere of  home.  Begrudge  not  money  for  books, 
or  music,  or  whatever  of  an  innocent  nature  may 
amuse.  This  is  a  vital  matter,  and  demands  far 
more  consideration  from  parents  than  it  receives. 
Home  is  regarded  by  many  as  a  mere  sheltering 
place,  or  boarding-house ;  while  all  comfort  and 
happiness  are  to  be  sought  and  found  in  the  wide 
world.  In  not  a  few  cases,  parents  have  been  re- 
sponsible for  the  waywardness  of  their  sons.  Home 
has  been  gloomy  or  it  has  been  empty.  Those  who 
ought  to  be  there  are  seeking  their  pleasure  in 
parties,  and  balls,  and  visits.  When  the  parent  goes 
abroad  for  happiness,  no  one  can  blame  the  child 
for  doing  the  ^ame.  This  sore  evil  have  I  witnessed 
in  our  cities.  A  large  and  splendid  mansion,  filled 
with  all  comforts,  decked  with  the  adornments  of 
art ;  a  most  inviting  abode,  which  one  would  think 
the  inmates  would  never  want  to  leave ;  and  yet 
into  it,  like  straggling  bees  to  a  hive,  the  occupants 
come  at  all  hours  of  the  night.  _The  father  goes  to 
the  club,  the  mother  and  daughters  to  the  opera, 
and  the  sons  to  meet  "  the  boys.'" 

It  is  the  Englishman's  boast,  that  his  house  is  his 


36  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

castle.  Ever^LpiireJlt^JiQnie.  ought- to  be  Ms  castle. 
It  should  be  a  place  of  defence  of  his  children.  In 
feudal  times  the  horn  was  sounded  at  sunset,  which 
summoned  all  the  inmates  of  the  castle  to  the  door, 
and  at  dusk  the  portcullis  was  let  down,  and  none 
were  admitted  afterward ;  and  none  allowed  to  otq 
out.  And  let  the  setting  sun,  which  calls  even  the 
brutes  to  their  hiding-places  and  the  fowls  to  their 
trees,  be  the  summons  which  shall  convoke  the 
household  home,  and  heejy  it  there.  All  damfistic 
and  useful  animals  go  to  sleep  when  the  sun  sets. 
The  ox,  and  the  horse,  and  the  fowl  are  no  night 
prowlers;  that  belongs  to  the  lion  and  the  owl.  Nip 
in  the  bud  all  disposition  to  seek  pleasure  awaj  from 
home. 

The  younger  son  gets  his  wish.  The  father 
divides  with  the  sons  his  living.  He  foresaw  that 
further  constraint  was  useless.  And  as  he  could  no 
longer  be  a  father  beloved,  he  will  not  be  a  master. 
The  arrangements  are  made,  and  the  parting  mo- 
ment arrives.  All  are  sad,  but  this  younger  son. 
May  be  a  mock  sorrow  flits  over  his  countenance. 
He  is  in  haste  that  the  disagreeable  farewell  may 
be  consummated.     Would  you  look  on  that  scene  ? 

Then  recall  the_first timfi^^ou-left  home  to  go. to 

school  or  college;  or  to  the  adjacent  town  to  learn 
a  trade,  or  become  a  clerk..  All  are  in  tears.  The 
father  hangs  on  the  son's  neck, with  words  of  coun- 
sel, which  glance  away  as  an  arrow  from  a  rock. 
The  mother  clasps  him  to  her  bosom  in  a  mingled 


THE    YOUNG    MAN    LEAVING    HOME.  3T 

transport  of  love  and  grief;  meanwhile  praying  in 
her  heart  that  God  would  protect  her  boy.  The 
brother  grasps  his  hand  with  expressions  of  hope  and 
cheer.  The  twining  arms  of  a  sister  encircle  him 
once  more  in  a  farewell  embrace;  while  her  sobbing, 
tender  tones  melt  their  way  to  his  heart.  And  then 
he  turns  from  this  weeping  circle,  as  his  father  in 
choking  accents  says,  "  God  bless  you,  my  boy." 

0  foolish  youth !  would  that  this  sorrow  could 
tame  your  wild  heart !  Would  that  it  might  awaken 
repentings  !  Could  you  see  how  that  tattered,  hun- 
gry, poor,  debased,  diseased  youth,  will  crawl  back  to 
the  threshold  of  this  home  :  you  now  would  turn  in 
your  steps,  and  remain  under  that  happy  roof.  But 
away  he  speeds,  like  the  unreined  horse,  wild  with 
liberty. 

Probably  the  most  critical  moments  in  a  young 
man's  life  is,  when  he  leaves  home.  He  then  en- 
counters peculiar  temptations.  Perhaps  he  has  been 
exposed  to  vice  and  immorality  in  his  own  town. 
But  those  salutary  restraints  which  lay  about  him, 
^re  now  removed.  He  is  exposed  to  equal  jjeril 
without  similar  'protection.  At  home,  he  was  under 
his  father's  eye.  He  feared  that  father.  He  was 
known  in  the  community.  He  had  a  regard  for  the 
good  opinion  of  his  neighbours.  But  in  a  new  situ- 
ation no  familiar  faces  silently  chide  him.  None 
w^atch  him,  as  he  imagines.  He  can  come  in  at 
midnight  intoxicated,  and  stumble  his  w.ay  up  stairs, 
and  no  mother's  acute  ear  will  detect  his  unsteady 
4 


38  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

tread.  No  sister  will  be  awake  to  let  him.  in.  No 
father's  eye,  in  the  morning,  will  trace  out  the Jines 
of  dissipation.  No  such  wholesome  restraints  hold 
back  the  young  man  away  from  home.  Herein  lies 
the  danger,  that  he  will  rapidly  advance  in  the 
downward  course. 

A  fearful  change  is  that  which  transports  a  youth 
from  the  quietness  and  simplicity  of  a  country  life, 
to  the  confusion  and  magnificence  of  a  metropolis. 
He  sees  a  style  of  dress,  and  a  habit  of  expense, 
■which  demand  the  utmost  of  his  means  to  imitate. 
He  looks  with  a  kind  of  awe  upon  those  high  in 
rank  and  station,  and  imagines  that  his  advance- 
ment depends  on  imitating  them.  And  jovial  com- 
panions, with  whom  perhaps  he  first  makes  acquain- 
tance, draw  him  away  to  ruin.  The  following  drawn 
by  a  skilful  hand  and  observing  eye,  is  the  sad 
career  of  thousands  : — 

"  A  beloved  youth  came  to  this  city  from  his  rural 
home,  to  enter  into  one  of  our  great  scenes  and 
marts  of  merchandise.  His  early  days  had  been 
watched  in  kindness,  and  spent  in  that  ignorance 
which  is  really  bliss,  amidst  the  cherishing  of  his 
parents,  and  the  tranquillity  an(f  harmony  of  the 
household  in  which  he  was  born.  He  might  have 
been  almost  said,  never  to  have  seen  the  shape  of 
degrading  sin — certainly  of  the  most  degrading 
shapes  he  knew  nothing.  The  age  of  his  maturity 
approached,  and  his  opening  desires  asked  for  op- 
portunities of  activity  and  business  in  the  world, 


THE   YOUNG   MAN   LEAVING   HOME.  39 

and  his  scarcely-yielding  parents  consented  to  his 
trial  of  a  city  life.  He  was  placed  in  a  warehouse 
of  large  engagements,  and  found  his  home  in  a 
boarding-house  of  respectability  and  good  report. 
But  in  both  he  found  the  well-tauo-ht  acients  of  evil. 
The^lauglied_at  his  boyish  innocence  ;  they  called 
him  green ;  they  scoffed  at  his  scruples  and  avowed 
principles ;  they  reviled  his  purity  as  pretence  and 
hypocrisy  ;  they  awakened  in  him  notions,  desires, 
fears  which  he  had  never  known ;  until  they  shamed 
him  out  of  his  integrity,  and  left  him  to  perish.  He 
came  to  the  church  on  his  first  arrival,  and  delighted 
in  the  Sabbath  worship,  and  meant  to  pass  his  whole 
time  on  the  side  of  virtue  and  truth.  But  this  cur- 
rent of  defilement  swept  him  away.  Not  without 
many  an  agony,  and  a  thousand  heart-burnings  and 
regrets,  did  he  turn  his  back  upon  the  sweet  remem- 
brance of  his  father's  house,  or  break  one  by  one 
the  tendrils  of  his  love  and  reverence  that  had  en- 
twined around  his  happy  home.  But  break  them  all 
he  did,  in  a  sad  and  fearful  way.  They  dragged 
him  a  willing  disciple  to  the  abominations  of  the 
theatre,  that  open  door  to  ruin  through  which  so 
many  find  the  way  to  death.  There  was  a  real  and 
conscious  struggle  within  which  he  was  ashamed  to 
avow.  But  the  first  step  settled  all.  The  drinking 
saloon,  the  billiard  table,  the  gambling  hell,  the 
house  of  the  strange  woman — all  in  an  infernal  pro- 
cession followed.  And  fraud  to  supply  his  wants, 
and  disease   to   consume  his  life,  and  disgrace   to 


40  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

brand  his  name,  were  the  ripened  results  of  the  sad 
experiment.  I  cannot  dwell  minutely  upon  his  his- 
tory in  the  facts  so  well  known  to  me.  Oh  !  what 
a  journey  it  was,  and  to  what  an  issue  it  led.  My 
soul  sickens  in  the  contemplation  which  the  memory 
brings  up  to  me.  And  yet  his  sorrowful  confession 
was,  he  had  never  known  one  moment's  peace,  and 
had  sold  himself,  in  this  rush  of  pride  over  weak- 
ness, to  a  constantly  conscious  destruction."* 

How  many  have  awaked  to  consciousness  in  the 
far  off  country,  and  in  the  sty  of  wretchedness  have 
pondered  thus,  as  they  recalled  the  home  of  early 
days.  "  That  father's  venerable  form  rises  up  be- 
fore me,  clothed  with  irresistible  reproach.  He  did 
not  chide  in  cruelty,  nor  blame  unjustly,  nor  exact 
inordinately.  He  was  full  of  tenderness,  patience, 
and  sympathy.  How  well  I  remember  his  evening 
prayers  and  his  morning  thanksgiving,  and  his  holy 
walk  in  the  dignity  of  home  religion !  That  beloved 
mother,  too,  whose  smile  was  heaven  to  me,  whose 
love  and  tenderness  never  failed,  covered  my  faults, 
and  sweetly  wiped  away  my  childish  -tears.  How 
I  feel  her  gentle  hand  upon  my  head  !  Yes,  I  feel 
her  warm  breath  upon  my  cheek,  as  if  she  had  come 
again  to  life,  to  reproach  me  for  the  guilt  and  mad- 
ness of  my  career.  Why  did  I  forsake  that  happy 
government?  Ah!  if  I  had  never  wandered;  if  I 
had  obeyed  my  father's  will,  and  retained  him  as 
the  guide  of  my  youth — what  sorrow  I  should  have 

*  Dr.  Tyng. 


THE    YOUNG    MAN    LEAVING    HOME.  41 

avoided  !  "What  painful  raemories ;  what  unne- 
cessary stains  ;  what  deep  humiliation  !"* 

But  let  us  present  a  cheering  thought.  A  young 
man  may  leave  home,  and  do  so, safely.  Myriads 
have.  While  the  shore  is  full  of  w^recks,  out  on  the 
sea  are  many  barks,  which  passed  the  shoals  and 
pursue  their  way  heavily  freighted  with  precious 
stores.  In  every  community  are  seen  men,  who  left 
their  father's  house  at  an  early  age,  and  who  have 
risen  to  eminence.  Inquire  how  this  was  done.  The 
reply  will  inform  us,  that  it  was  not  by  riotous  liv- 
ing and  by  a  spendthrift's  prodigality.  Their  eve- 
nings were  devoted  to  self-improvement,  not  to 
pleasure.  They  were  not  present  at  every  horse- 
race, nor  found  at  the  street  corners,  gazing  imper- 
tinently at  every  lady  passing  by.  Those  who  did 
thus  went  down  long  ago. 

"A  well-beloved  youth,  whom  I  knew,  was  a 
complete  illustration  of  this  restraining  influence. 
Beauty  marked  his  person — wealth  adorned  his  con- 
dition. Every  worldly  attraction  was  around  his 
dwelling.  Every  conceivable  opportunity  of  indul- 
gence was  within  his  reach.  His  nature  was  earnest 
and  vigorous.  And  though  brought  up  under  all 
the  influence  of  religion  at  home,  those  who  most 
wisely  loved  him,  trembled  for  him,  when  his  open- 
ing years  forced  him  into  contact  with  the  world. 
His  school  and  college  life  took  him  from  home. 
His  circumstances  attracted  around  him  the  gayest 

*  Dr.  Tvng. 
4  * 


42  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

and  idlest  companions.  His  cheerfulness  delighted 
in  mirth.  His  talent  made  mirth  at  his  pleasure  for 
all.  Ah  ! — few  knew  what  he  went  through  to  test 
his  principles  and  his  instruction.  His  college  com- 
panions stimulated  the  worst  propensities  within  him. 
The  array  of  books  and  pictures  which  form  the 
secret  agencies  of  defilement  in  our  colleges,  and 
aiding  the  influence  of  which  are  so  many  of  the 
stories  and  allusions  of  classical  learning,  led  him 
in  one  line  of  temptation  to  the  very  verge  of  ruin, 
— when  the  remembrance  of  his  mother  and  sisters 
at  home,  so  beloved,  to  be  outraged  by  his  compli- 
ance,— arrested  him  with  the  sternness  of  a  resist- 
less appeal,  and  he  started  back.  His  social  relations 
brought  him  multiplied  invitations  to  the  card-table 
and  the  billiard-room;  and  again  and  again,  on  the 
eve  of  yielding,  his  pure  and  peaceful  home  came 
up  again,  and  he  had  strength  to  utter  a  solemn  No, 
and  he  never  knew  a  game  of  either.  The  college 
supper  more  than  once  threatened  his  destruction  in 
its  provisions  for  intoxication, — and  once  only  pre- 
vailed, giving  him  a  subsequent  shock  which  secured 
his  final  liberty.  He  came  to  maturity  sadly  tempted, 
but  wonderfully  restrained.  He  had  strength  given 
him  to  fight  the  battle  thoroughly  in  his  own  heart, 
and  needed  not  to  unwind  the  habits  of  outward 
defilement  and  sin  in  open  conduct.  Grace  found 
him  a  tried  and  chosen  vessel,  and  made  him  a  no- 
ble and  shining  instrument  of  usefulness  to  others. 
Ah !  often  in  the  course,  his  heart  was  tempted  to 


THE   YOUNG    MAN    LEAVING    HOME.  43 

'sflT?/,'  but  the  restraining  Spirit  interposed, — and 
never  in  outward,  allowed  rebellion,  did  he  '  my ' 
the  lanoruage  of  sinful  choice  or  sensual  determina- 
tion.  Though  tempted  much,  and  seeing  much, — 
from  which  parental  love,  had  it  all  been  known, 
would  have  gladly  kept  him  back, — he  still  had 
strength  given  him  to  '  flee  youthful  lusts,'  and  to 
*keep  himself  pure.'  Why  may  not  all  thus  start 
back,  and  make  their  stand  there?"* 

I  should  be  unfaithful  to  the  gospel,  did  I  not 
declare  that  piety  is  the  main  safeguard  to  the  young 
man  away  from  home.  Mere  moral  principles  are 
not  so  reliable  as  piety.  And  for  the  reason  that 
morality  has  nothing  but  itself  to  lean  upon,  while 
piety  has  the  promised  assistance  of  Ilim  "  who 
was  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are,  yet  without 
sin."  When  I  see  a  young  man  resting  upon  7noral 
principles  only,  I  have  hope  of  him ;  but  when  I 
find  him  seeking  day  by  day  help  from  God,  then  I 
have  confidence^  a7id  dismiss  all  my  fears.  Turning 
to  the  Bible,  we  learn  that  precisely  this  fortified 
the  heroes  of  Israel,  many  of  whom,  in  youth,  were 
cast  amid  temptation.  I  might  mention  Joseph, 
Samuel,  David,  Daniel,  and  others;  all  of  whom,  in 
youth,  left  their  father's  house.  I  will  speak  of  only 
two — Samuel,  when  a  mere  boy,  was  placed  in  charge 
of  Eli  at  the  tabernacle.  That  man,  though  high 
priest,  exercised  no  restraint  over  his  sons.  He 
was  too  easy  a  man   to  govern  well  his  family  or 

*Dr.  Tyng. 


44  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

Samuel.  Hence  Samuel  had  no  salutary  trainino" 
from  Eli.  Besides,  the  example  set  before  him  by 
Eli's  sons  was  very  vile.  The  age,  too,  was  degen- 
erate ;  and  piety  was  at  a  low  ebb.  Still  Samuel 
maintained  his  purity.  He  developed  into  a  great 
and  good  man.  But  if  he  had  not  been  a  praying 
youth,  he  would  have  been  drawn  into  the  vortex 
of  crime  which  whirled  around  him.  David  was 
probably  not  older  than  eighteen,  when  he  left  the 
sheep-cot,  and  became  armour-bearer  to  King  Saul. 
From  tending  sheep  amid  the  solitudes  of  Judea,  he 
was  made  the  companion  of  captains  and  military 
men,  and  officers  of  the  royal  household.  Courts 
were  as  corrupt  as  in  these  days.  Yet  David  did 
not  suffer  by  this  change.  His  morals  and  piety 
endured  this  exposure,  and  only  grew  the  firmer, 
under  severe  trial.  But  David  was  a  pious  youth. 
As  our  young  men  go  out  from  home,  we  would 
have  them  pious.  And  why  should  they  not  ?  Ought 
not  their  early  affections  to  centre  in  their  heavenly 
Father  and  that  Jesus  who  died  to  save  them  ?  Why 
waste  this  golden  period  in  mere  indulgence  and  in 
disobedience  ?  But  says  the  youth,  I  must  have 
my  pleasures  and  my  joys.  And  because  we  want 
you  to  he  hajjpy^  we  urge  you  to  he  godly.  "  Wisdom's 
ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths 
are  peace."  It  is  a  flippant  excuse,  gliding  from 
many  tongues,  that  youth  is  the  period  for  wildness 
and  indulgence,  which  will  soon  run  out,  and  that 
in   the   end  they  make  as  good  men,  and  perhaps 


THE   YOUNG    MAN    LEAVING    HOME.  45 

better,  than  those  who  set  out  at  the  beginning  to 
serve  the  Lord.  This  is  a  slander  on  early  piety. 
It  is  trifling  with  God's  warnings  and  expostula- 
tions. Who  can  utter  such  a  sentiment  after  read- 
ing the  Proverbs  of  Solomon  ?  Each  chapter,  and 
almost  every  verse,  of  those  Proverbs,  expose  the 
fallacy  of  such  a  maxim.  The  truth  is,  the  cases 
are  few,  where  youth,  indulging  in  a  guilty  career, 
are  reclaimed  to  virtue,  usefulness,  and  piety,  com- 
pared with  those  who  never  went  astray,  but  grew 
up  in  the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  who  walked  in  the 
way  of  holiness  from  the  morning  of  life.  No  Chris- 
tians make  such  attaiuments  in  godliness,  in  none  is 
the  savour  of  piety  so  fragrant,  as  those  who  con- 
secrated their  young  hearts  to  God.  *'  Far  better 
Samuel's  early  choice  than  Manasseh's  late  but 
painful  experience,  or  Saul's  noonday  conversion. 
Better,  far  better,  to  say  with  Polycarp,  ^  I  loved 
Jesus  in  my  youth,  and  he  has  never  forsaken  me 
in  my  age,'  than  to  groan  with  Augustine,  down  to 
the  very  gates  of  death,  over  youthful  sins  and  ma- 
ture iniquities,  however  grace  may  have  been  made 
to  abound  in  pardon  over  the  numberless  sins  which 
it  removes."  * 

•  Dr.  Tyng. 


46  THE   PRODIGAL    SON. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BAD    COMPANY.  „ 

But  as  soon  as  this  thy  son  was  come,  which  hath 
devoured  thy  living  with  Im'lsts,  thou  hast  killed  for 
him  the  fatted  calf. 

The  young  man  away  from  home  seeks  associates. 
And  if  lie  do  not  seek  them,  he  soon  forms  ac- 
quaintances. For  intelligent  beings  are  social. 
The  more  intelligent  of  the  brutes  are  the  most  so- 
cial. The  horse  and  the  elephant  in  herds  roam 
their  native  wilds.  The  bee  and  the  beaver,  each 
of  which  manifests  an  instinct  akin  to  reason,  live 
in  communities,  and  almost  seem  to  have  a  civil 
code.  There  is  society  and  sweet  intercourse  in 
heaven.  And  in  the  pit  of  despair,  so  far  as  we 
know,  there  is  no  solitary  confinement  in  separate 
cells,  but  in  company  the  damned  share  their  tor- 
ments. 

Man,  peculiarly  formed  for  society,  has  no  joy 
in  absolute  solitude.  God  acknowledged  this  when 
he  said,  "  It  is  not  good  that  the  man  should  be 
alone,  I  will  make  an  help  meet  for  him."  And 
God  brought  to  him  just  such  a  companion  as  he 


BAD    COMPANY.  47 

required.  Cut  a  man  off  from  his  fellow  creatures, 
and  he  pines  away  in  loneliness,  as  does  the  dove 
•who  loses  her  mate.  In  fact,  so  complicated  are  the 
wants  of  mankind,  that  only  society,  or  man  in  com- 
bined action,  can  supply  them.  From  society  pro- 
ceed all  the  refined  comforts  and  superior  enjoy- 
ments of  life.  And  from  society  proceed  the  great- 
est dangers  and  evils  of  life.  Sin  has  wrought  such 
disaster  and  confusion,  that  the  greatest  blessings 
may  be  turned  into  the  greatest  evils. 

Parents'  hearts  ache  when  they  think  that  their 
children  must  encounter  these  same  adversaries 
which  once  beset  their  own  path ;  that  they  must  walk 
over  the  same  enchanted  ground  which  they  them- 
selves trod,  and  must  stumble  upon  the  same  snares 
which  entrapped  them.  Theyknow  the  perils  aris- 
ing from  assorting  with  a  world,  where  youth  find 
so  many  things  to  allure ;  where  good  inclinations, 
a  generous  heart,  and  a  kind  disposition  will  furnish 
the  very  means  of  ruin.  Society,  youth  must  and 
will  have.  Good  society  is  difficult  to  attain  and 
prfigerve.  Ei^il  society  is  as  common  as  the  air,  as 
universal  as  sin.  We  speak  here  of  such  company 
as  we  ourselves  choose.  For  we  are  frequently 
forced  into  bad  company.  In  our  connections  in 
life,  we  may  be  obliged  to  deal  with  many,  whose 
principles  and  practices  are  totally  abhorrent  from 
our  own.  The  dislike  and  disapprobation  of  their 
manners,  which  we  feel,  may  rather  serve  to  im- 
prove our  own,  and  confirm  us  in  our  virtues.    Peril 


48  THE    PRODIGAL    SON^. 

lies  in  the  company  of  such  as  we  voluntarily  choose 
as  the  associates  of  our  leisure  hours ;  with  whom 
we  delight  to  be,  and  who  assimilate  us  to  their  own 
standard  of  folly  and  wickedness. 

To  imitate  is  a  principle  of  human  nature.  It 
begins  with  the  babe.  The  boy  acts  as  his  father 
does.  The  girl  repeats  the  mother.  Our  native 
tongue  is  acquired  by  imitation.  The  youth  selects 
a  townsman  or  countryman  whom  he  admires,  and 
makes  him  his  model.  Most  men  form  their  opin- 
ions and  manners  from  the  opinions  and  manners 
of  others.  Herein  lies  the  power  of  the  daily  jour- 
nal. And  w^hat  we  approve  in  social  life  we  imi- 
tate. It  cannot  therefore  be  supposed  that  we  are 
divested  of  this  common  principle  of  our  nature,  in 
respect  to  things  vicious  and  immoral.  The  power 
of  imitation  prevails  there. 

Every  man  of  prudence  acts  on  this  principle. 
The  father  who  has  the  good  of  his  children  at 
heart,  will  not  rent  a  house  in  a  bad  neighbourhood  ; 
because  he  fears  the  consequence  of  a  bad  example 
continually  before  his  family.  And  this  is  right. 
But  must  we  not  see  that  exposure  to  sin  anywhere 
and  at  any  time  is  liahility  to  imitate  ?  There  is 
an  unconscious  imbibing  of  evil.  You  remain  in  a 
sick-room,  and  your  lungs  inhale  the  fetid  atmos- 
phere, it  taints  your  blood,  and  spreads  its  poison 
through  your  whole  system  ;  and  then  you  are  ready 
for  the  disease  itself,  or  some  other  which  may  be 
prevailing.     In  like  manner  does  bad  company  in- 


BAD    COMPANY.  49 

feet  all  within  its  reacli.  You  look  on,  half  amused, 
and  half  ashamed  that  jou  should  be  among  them  ; 
all  the  while  quieting  conscience  with  the  assurance 
that  you  will  not  participate.  You  are  inhaling  the 
poison  of  that  atmosphere  of  sin.  Continue  to  be 
present  in  such  assemblies,  listen  to  their  lewd  jests, 
smile  when  they  laugh,  depart  only  when  a  forced 
self-respect  will  not  allow  you  to  remain — and  in  all 
this,  you  are  crowding  your  soul  full  of  this  infec- 
tion. The  heart  is  fast  becoming  corrupted  by  all 
this  foulness.  And  in  some  unguarded  moment,  in 
an  extreme  pressure  of  temptation,  the  malady  will 
break  out,  and  you  will  become  a  participant — a 
wicked  one. 

Insensibly,  but  surely  we  contract  the  habits  of 
those  around  us,  and  with  whom  we  mingle.  If 
they  are  rude,  we  become  rude.  If  they  are  re- 
fined and  chaste,  we  are  also.  *'  Tell  me  with  whom 
you  go,"  says  the  old  proverb,  "  and  I  will  tell  you 
what  you  are." 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  such  frightful  mien, 
As  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen. 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
"We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

Augustine  tells  of  a  Roman  youth  who  could  not 
be  induced-to  attend  the  theatre,  there  to  witness 
the  brutal  fights  of  the  gladiators.  He  was  often 
rallied  about  it  by  his  companions,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose.     They  could  not  move  him.       One  day,  in 


50         .  THE    PRODIGAL   SOX. 

[  sport,  he  was  seized  bj  those  companions,  and  car- 

i  ried  forcibly  to  the  theatre,  where  a  contest  was 
going  on.  At  first  he  shut  his  eyes,  refusing  to  be- 
hold the  sickening  spectacle.  Soon  he  opened  them 
for  a  moment,  and  then  for  a  longer  space  of  time  ; 
until  at  length  he  looked  steadily ;  and  seeing  all 
the  spectators  deeply  interested,  he  too  became  fasci- 
nated with  the  show.  Then  and  there  he  acquired 
a  taste  for  such  brutal  scenes,  and  became  a  con- 
stant attendant,  until,  by  divine  grace,  his  heart 
■was  renewed. 

The  fatal  consequences  of  bad  company  have 
been  known,  and  confessed  in  all  ages.  ''  Evil  com- 
munications corrupt  good  manners,"  said  Paul.  This 
is  taken  from  a  very  ancient  heathen  poet — Menan- 
der  ;  and  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  sentiments 
W'hich  had  gained  universal   assent.      Sin  and  bad 

1  company  go  together.  It  is  dull  work  to  sin  alone. 
Man  needs  the  encouragement  of  accomplices  in  his 
guilt.  The  sot  takes  no  pleasure  in  drinking  in 
his  own  room.  He  likes  to  go  to  a  tavern.  The 
more  the  merrier,  is  the  rule  in  the  assemblies  of 
the  wicked. 

•  Men  learn  their  first  lessons  in  evil  when  among 
wicked  companions.  It  is  seldom  a  man  goes  astray 
without  an  example  which  he  imitates.  A  lad  hears 
profanity,  and  he  repeats  it.  He  is  invited  to  drink 
with  tipplers,  and  does  so,  and  soon  a  taste  for  rum 
is  formed.  He  sees  others  gaming,  and  he  tries  it 
himself.     It  is  true  that  men  are  naturally  inclined 


BAD    COMPANY.  ,  51 

to  evil.  And  hence  they  become  apt  learners  in 
the  school  of  sin.  But  it  is  with  bad  company  as 
'with  schooling,  we  learn  7)wre  cfiickly  and  tlioroughli/. 
The  hardened  embolden  the  hesitating ;  the  adept 
instructs  the  beginner.  Bad  company  trains  in  evil. 
It  shows  how  it  may  be  done.  It  calls  out  the  evil 
which  is  dormant  in  every  heart.  It  is  a  hot-bed, 
which  prematurely  developes  seeds  of  sin,  which 
otherwise  might  never  have  germinated.  Many  a 
hesitating  youth,  in  whose  heart  yet  lingered  the 
monitions  of  conscience,  goaded  by  the  taunts  of 
his  companions,  has  rapidly  advanced  from  the  most 
reluctant  rioter,  to  be  the  ringleader  in  all  evil  deeds. 
Many  a  repenting  prodigal  has  been  amazed,  as 
he  reviewed  his  life,  at  the  wickedness  which  bad  as- 
sociates produced  in  him,  and  which  he  never  im- 
agined to  be  there. 

Mr.  Gough,  in  a  lecture  before  the  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association  of  London,  in  dwelling  on  the 
corrupting  influences  of  bad  associates,  alluded  to 
the  inevitable  penalty  of  mental  suffering  which 
every  transgressor  incurs. 

*'What  you  learn  from  bad  habits  and  in  bad  so- 
ciety," said  he,  "you  will  never  forget,  and  it  will 
be  a  lasting  pang  to  you.  I  tell  you  in  all  sincerity, 
not  as  in  the  excitement  of  a  speech,  but  as  I  would 
confess  and  have  confessed  before  God,  I  would  give 
my  right  hand  to-night  if  I  could  forget  that  which 
I  have  learned  in  evil  society  ;  if  I  could  tear  from 
my  remembrance  the  scenes  which  I  have  witnessed, 


i^ 


52  THE   PRODIGAL    SON. 

the  transactions  which  have  taken  place  before  me. 
You  cannot,  I  believe,  take  away  the  effect  of  a 
single  impure  thought  that  has  lodged  and  harboured 
in  the  heart.  You  maj  pray  against  it,  and  by 
God's  grace  you  may  conquer  it,  but  it  will,  through 
life,  cause  you  bitterness  and  anguish." 

Bad  compajiy  neutralizes  all  good  influences.  No 
amount  of  refinement  and  education  will  protect 
against  this  invariable  rule  of  human  nature.  The 
heavier  mass  attracts  the  lighter.  So  was  it  in  the 
family  of  Lot.  His  soul  was  vexed  w^ith  the  evils 
of  Sodom ;  but  he  was  tainted  with  their  depravity.. 
Sin,  heinous  to  others,  was  allowable  to  him.  And 
in  the  shame  of  his  own  family,  he  saw  that  godly 
parents  cannot  keep  out  the  bad  example  of  the 
neighbourhood.  You  may  go  to  church  on  the 
\  Sabbath,  but  if  on  Monday  you  visit  the  haunts  of 
evil,  the  blessed  influence  of  the  house  of  God  will 
disappear.  The  young  man  may  have  a  pious  father 
and  mother,  and  may  kneel  down  with  them  at  the 
family  altar ;  but  if  he  wilfully  stands  in  the  way 
of  sinners,  or  sits  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful,  this 
piety  of  home  will  weigh  not  a  feather  amid  evil 
associates.  All  religious  instruction  is  overborne 
by  the  lessons  of  bad  company.  Prince  Eugene, 
of  Soissons,  had  all  those  qualifications  and  endow- 
ments which  can  procure  love  and  esteem.  A 
sweetness  of  temper,  a  quick  understanding,  an 
heroic  ardour,  a  skill  in  the  sciences  and  other  parts 
of  polite  literature,  united  to  justify  the   exalted 


BAD    COMPANY.  53 

hopes  conceived  of  him.  lie  showed  a  strong  incli- 
nation to  a  military  ]i£c,  and  at  an  early  age  in- 
ured himself  to  its  hardships,  by  making  a  board 
serve  for  his  pillow.  The  king,  his  father,  hud 
taken  the  greatest  care  of  bis  education.  To  keep 
him  out  of  the  way  of  public  diversions  and  other 
dissipations,  he  resided  at  a  distance  from  court : 
there  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  study  of  the  sciences, 
with  such  intenseness  and  application,  that  he  came 
to  the  court  scarcely  once  a  week.  The  young 
prince  allowed  himself  no  other  amusements,  but 
such  as  improve  as  well  as  divert  the  mind.  How 
great  things  then  might  be  expected  from  him ! 
Alas !  all  proved  vain  in  the  end.  Bad  companions 
insinuated  themselves  into  his  good  esteem.  Bad 
examples  found  him  unable  to  withstand  them. 
AVhen  the  vicious  were  his  companions,  their  man- 
ners were  no  longer  his  abhorrence.  By  associating 
with  them,  he  soon  became  as  abandoned  as  the 
worst  of  them.  And  in  a  few  years,  having  lost 
his  virtue,  he  lost  his  life.  There  cannot  be  a  more 
melancholy  proof  of  the  fatal  influence  which  bad 
company  and  bad  examples  have  over  even  the  best 
cultivated  and  best  disposed  minds.  How  then  can 
others  expect  to  avoid  the  contagion,  if  they  are 
bold  enough  to  venture  into  the  midst  of  it?  In 
some  persons  evil  propensities  are  very  strong.  It 
requires  much  self-restraint,  that  they  may  walk  in 
the  paths  of  virtue.  For  such  it  is  ruin  to  venture 
among  evil  companions,  Tltey  must  give  them  up 
5  • 


54  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

or  die.  It  may  be  like  plucking  out  the  riglit  eye, 
but  it  must  be  done  or  t^e  whole  body  will  go  to 
hell.  One  such  came  under  my  observation.  He 
had  a  violent  temper,  and  an  almost  quenchless 
thirst  for  ardent  spirits.  At  one  time  he  became, 
as  he  thought,  and  as  I  hoped,  a  subject  of  divine 
grace.  His  repentance  seemed  deep,  overwhelming, 
and  genuine.  He  abandoned  his  evil  ways,  forsook 
his  former  associates,  was  a  constant  worshipper  in 
the  sanctuary,  at  the  weekly  lecture,  and  the  prayer- 
meeting.  And  thus  he  continued  for  more  than  a 
year.  But  thrown  unexpectedly  among  a  few  old 
friends,  he  was  afraid  to  offend  them  by  not  drink- 
ing with  them  :  imagining  that,  unless  he  did,  it 
would  be  proof  he  was  not  glad  to  see  them.  What 
a  cunning  device  of  Satan  this  is!  And  how  ridic- 
ulous !  He  drank  only  beer ;  but  it  aroused  the 
demon,  which  had  slept  for  a  time,  and  he  fell  into 
his  old  habits.  He  was  reclaimed,  but  wicked  com- 
panions drew  him  away  again  and  again. 

Such  cases  might  be  repeated  by  the  hour.  And 
all  go  to  show,  that  the  only  safe  course  is  to  keep 
away  from  evil.  Pass  not  by  it.  Go  on  the  other 
side.     How  is  this  to  be  done? 

Avoid  those  kinds  of  business  tvhicJi  lead  to  Sah- 
hatk-breaJdng,  dislionesty^  trickery^  double-dealing ; 
and  which  call  together  the  irreligious^  the  i^ofane^ 
the  gambler^  and  the  tippler.  A  man  may  be  in  such 
a  business,  and  become  convinced  of  its  evils ;  and 
yet  he  cannot  get  out  of  it.     He  ought  as  soon  as 


BAD    COxMPANY.  55 

possible.  No  considerations  of  gain  ouglit  to  prevent 
him.  But  there  is  no  excuse  for  the  young  man. 
All  kinds  of  occupations,  and  all  branches  of  indus- 
try are  open  to  him.  Why  then  should  he  put  him- 
self where  temptations  abound  1  I  do  most  earnestly 
beseech  every  young  man,  never  to  he  connected  with 
any  store  ivhcre  ardent  spirits  are  sold,  or  where 
gambling  is  carried  on.  Sooner  go  in  rags  and  die 
of  starvation.  For  to  starvation  and  rags,  with  a 
sullied  soul,  such  a  place  will  bring  you.  No  matter 
how  tempting  is  the  offer,  or  how  large  is  the  gain. 
Shun  such  an  employment  as  you  would  the  mouth 
of  hell.  I  would  sooner  put  a  son  into  a  pest-house 
to  learn  disease,  than  into  a  dram-shop  to  learn  busi- 
ness. I  have  seen — and  who  has  not? — an  uncor- 
rupted  youth  find  employment  where  his  masters 
were  men  of  the  world.  The  Sabbaths  have  been 
partly  spent  in  the  store,  with  front  windows  closed. 
Cards  have  been  shuffled,  casks  have  been  tapped.  At 
first  he  is  uneasy  in  this  new  life,  but  his  employers 
do  it,  and  he  regards  them  as  all  right.  He  discovers, 
too,  that  they,  in  spite  of  their  habits,  stand  w^ell  in 
the  community.  Even  religious  men  patronize  them 
and  court  their  influence.  What  marvel,  that  the 
youth  ceases  to  restrain  the  evil  propensities  of  his 
heart,  which  clamour  for  indulgence ;  and  becomes 
as  bad  as  his  associates?  Oh  how  careful  should 
parents  be  with  whom  they  put  their  sons  to  learn 
trades,  or  be  clerks ! 

To  avoid  the  snares  of  bad  company,  seek  out  good 


\ 


56  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

company.  All  society  is  not  bad.  Society  the 
young  must  have.  I  would  not  seclude  you  from 
the  world,  only  shelter  you  from  the  bad.  All  the 
enjoyments  of  society  are  not  with  the  bad.  And  so 
conduct  yourself  as  to  secure  and  retain  the  confi- 
dence of  the  virtuous  and  good,  and  they  will  be 
your  firm  friends.  They  will  be  the  friends  of  your 
adversity.  It  is  untrue  that  there  is  more  heart 
among  the  bad,  than  with  the  good.  What  heart 
there  is  with  the  wicked  is  hollow-heartedness. 
While  you  can  be  of  benefit  to  them,  they  are  yours  ; 
when  not,  they  will  forsake  you  with  as  little  com- 
punction as  the  ostrich  does  her  nest.  Many  have 
experienced  this.  The  prodigal  did.  Of  all  those 
who  enjoyed  his  convivialities,  not  one  came  to  him 
in  his  penury.  They  did  not  care  that  he  fed  swine. 
Besides  this  general  companying  with  the  virtuous, 
endeavour  to  cultivate  a  friendship  with  one  or  more 
of  similar  disposition,  and  similar  good  intentions 
with  yourself.  Cicero  remarks  upon  the  benefits 
which  young  men  find  from  proper  friendships,"  they 
keep  them  in  their  duty."  A  virtuous  friend  will 
keep  us  steadfast  in  our  duty — a  most  valuable 
service.  Away  from  home,  the  young  man  needs 
those  who  will  take  the  father's  place,  and  give  coun- 
sel, and  who  in  the  mother's  stead  will  manifest  that 
tender  interest  in  his  welfare,  which  makes  him 
ever  ready  to  heed  advice. 

Need  I  tell   you  that   among  Christians  you  will 
find  your  best  friends  ?     In  the  sanctuary,  in  the 


BAD    COMPANY.  57 

Sabbath-school,  in  the  prayer-meeting,  jou  are  in 
good  company.  Are  you  a  stranger  ?  let  the  peo- 
ple of  God  see  your  face,  and  they  will  become  in- 
terested in  you.  Call  upon  the  pastor,  and  if  he 
be  of  the  spirit  of  his  Master,  as  he  should  be,  he 
will  give  you  the  friendly  hand.  The  best  friends 
you  can  make  in  a  strange  land  are  Christians. 

"  While  the  religion  of  Christ  has  its  due  influ- 
ence on  your  souls  ;  while  you  direct  your  thoughts, 
and  guide  your  actions  by  the  precepts  of  the  gos- 
pel ;  you  will  have  that  virtue  and  conscience,  which 
will  render  vice  odious,  and  goodness  alone  pleasing. 
Show  yourselves  firm,  dare  but  to  be  singular  a  while, 
confront  the  scoifs  and  ridicule  of  despicable  sneer- 
ers,  and  they  will  leave  you,  because  your  company 
will  be  undesirable  to  them.  Finding  you  like  a 
rock  amid  the  waves,  they  will  grant  you  the  silent 
and  involuntary  approbation  of  their  hearts.  Thus 
you  will  have  true  contentment  and  inward  peace. 
You  will  procure  the  honour  and  esteem  of  your  fel- 
low-creatures and  the  future  rewards  of  the  pious 
in  heaven."*  *' He  that  walketh  with  wise  men 
shall  be  wise,  but  a  companion  of  fools  shall  be  de- 
stroyed." 

I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  reputable  mem- 
bers of  society,  and  especially  Christians,  incur  no 
small  share  of  the  responsibility  for  the  existence 
of  demoralizing  and  vicious  examples  in  the  com- 
munity.     If  a  persistent  but  kind  disapproval  of 

•  Dodd's  Lectures  to  Youns:  Men. 


58  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

their  course  were  maintained,  the  ungodly  would  be 
checked  in  their  career.  Can  we  expe-ct  anything 
else  than  a  laxity  of  moral  principles,  when  Chris- 
tian men  tacitly  countenance  the  ungodly  ?  When 
they  will  have  close  transactions  with  them  for  mo- 
ney's sake,  so  close  as  to  become  identified  with 
them  ?  AVhen  for  the  sake  of  political  ends,  asso- 
ciations the  most  unseemly  are  formed,  like  the  ox 
and  the  ass  ploughing  together  ?  When  good 
men  do  not  speak  nor  act  as  though  they  thought 
evil  was  evil,  or  the  wrong  doer  to  be  shunned  ? 
What  inference  must  the  world  draw,  when  a  pro- 
fessing Christian  will  publicly  declare  that  we  do 
not  want  men  of  too  great  purity  in  high  station  ? 
When  a  clergyman  of  a  church  of  our  Lord  makes  a 
speech  to  prove  that  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
morals  of  a  Congressman,  but  only  with  his  political 
sentiments  ?  When  Christian  men  go  deliberately  to 
the  polls,  and  vote  for  the  vicious,  against  the  vir- 
tuous ?  Is  it  a  matter  of  surprise  that  our  young 
men,  wavering  between  a  life  of  godliness  and  of 
wickedness,  should  be  strongly  urged  to  self-indul- 
gence, when  such  an  endorsement  is  put  on  sin  ? 

The  Bible  does  not  bid  us  exclude  the  bad  from 
our  sympathy,  care,  or  attention.  "  Honour  all  men." 
There  is  a  respect  due  to  every  man,  just  because  he 
is  a  man.  But  Scripture  does  plainly,  sternly,  forbid 
intimate,  voluntary,  association  with  the  wicked.  The 
worse  a  man  is,  and  the  more  openly  he  sets  at  de- 
fiance the  principles  of  our  holy  religion,  the  greater 


BAD   COMPANY.  59 

is  the  danner  of  connection  with  him,  and  of  con- 
ferring  honour  upon  him. 

And  there  is  a  shameful  neglect  of  tlie  young 
stranger.  A  young  man  comes  to  a  town  ;  who 
cares  to  invite  him  to  church,  or  to  a  social  circle  ? 
The  saloon  is  open  to  him,  but  what  Christian  voice 
inquires  of  his  welfare  ?  If  he  seeks  you,  he  is  re- 
garded ;  if  not,  what  care  you  ?  It  is  a  misfortune 
that  too  great  a  reserve  prevails  among  the  moral 
and  upright.  The  bad  open  their  arms  to  every 
stranger.  There  is  a  frankness,  a  cheeriness,  a 
heartiness,  a  warm  welcome  in  bad  company,  which 
is  very  winning  to  the  new  comer.  It  gains  on 
his  aifections,  and  draws  him  towards  them,  while 
the  good  eye  him  for  a  while  to  see  what  he 
is  going  to  he.  If  he  turns  out  well,  they  will  wel- 
come him  ;  if  not,  they  avoid  him.  Why  not  try  to 
save  him  from  the  clutch  of  these  emissaries  of 
the  devil  ?  If  he  be  inclined  to  go  astray,  gently  draw 
him  to  virtuous  ways,  and  thus  save  a  soul  from 
death.  Let  not  Satan  have  it  all  his  own  way. 
While  his  minions  lurk  at  every  corner,  and  say, 
*'  0  come  with  us,  come  with  us !"  cannot  Christians 
say,  "  Come  zvitlt  us,  and  we  will  do  you  good,  for 
the  Lord  hath  spoken  good  concerning  Israel  ?" 
Tliou  art  thy  brother's  keeper.  '*  The  children  of 
this  world  are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the 
children  of  light." 


60  THE   PRODIGAL   SOIT. 


CHAPTER  V. 

RUINOUS     LIVING. 

***  ^^And  there  wasted  his  substance  with  riotous 
living.'' 

The  younger  son  probably  began  his  spendthrift 
course,  by  parting  with  his  possession  at  a  sacrifice. 
And  with  the  money  in  his  pocket,  he  departs  to  a 
-i-'far  country."  That  same  wicked  heart  which 
constrained  him  to  leave  home,  draws  him  into  a 
course  of  prodigality  and  sin. 

This  was  to  be  expected.  For  the  heart  is  a  self- 
generator  of  wickedness.  You  can  drain  the  clouds 
of  their  rain :  you  can  exhaust  the  moisture  of  the 
marsh  by  long-continued  drought:  you  can  run 
rivers  dry :  but  you  cannot  drain  out  the  wicked- 
ness of  man's  heart.  It  may  pour  itself  out  in 
vile  actions  and  words,  in  one  constant  stream ;  yet 
as  full  as  ever  will  that  heart  be ;  undiminished  will 
be  its  desires  for  evil. 

Hence,  when  a  man   enters   on  a  sinful  path,  he 

■cannot  tell  where  it  will  lead  him.  When  the  younger 

son  left  home,  he  had  no  intention  of  going  to  such 

lengths    as  he  was  finally  led  to.     Bad  associates 


RUINOUS    LIVING.  61 

drew  him  on.  He  looked  around  on  the  debauchery 
which  met  his  eyes  in  the  haunts  of  sin,  and  loathed 
it  in  his  soul.  He  was  resolved  never  to  sink  so 
low  as  that;  but  he  did.  And  so  many  a  youno^ 
sinner  pities  the  poor  sot  whose  bloated  form  dis- 
gusts his  eyes.  And  as  that  youth,  conscious  now 
of  his  self-restraint,  merrily  drains  the  wine-cup, 
he  turns  with  contempt  from  the  miserable  drunkard, 
who  gulps  down  the  vilest  rum.  And  yet  in  that 
degradation  he  is  witnessing  his  own  end,  as  surely 
as  he  continues  his  wayward  life.  To  be  assured 
of  this,  he  need  only  look  back  to  the  days  of  his 
purity  under  his  father's  roof.  How  he  then  shud- 
dered, as  he  saw  others  doing  precisely  what  he  is 
now  engaged  in !  A  young  man  swearing,  smoking, 
and  drinking  in  the  tavern,  was  as  sad  a  spectacle 
to  him,  as  is  now  the  tattered  and  reeling  sot.  As 
surely  as  the  wickedness  of  his  heart,  unchecked, 
took  him  from  his  home,  drew  him  away  from  the 
principles  which  a  father  inculcated,  and  a  mother, 
with  tears,  pressed  upon  him  ;  just  as  certainly  will 
that  wicked  heart,  uncurbed,  drag  him  down  to  a 
profligate's  grave. 

Every  one  can  call  to  mind  sad  repetitions  of  this 
younger  son's  career.  The  narrowest  sweep  of 
memory  will  embrace  more  than  one.  Setting  out 
in  life  with  the  fairest  prospects,  their  sun  has  gone 
down  in  a  fearful  storm.  Blessed  with  talents,  edu- 
cation, influence,  and  friends,  they  have  dragged  out 
a  miserable  existence.     They  have  literally  wanted 


62  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

their  substance.  The  portion  which  God  gave  them 
has  been  squandered.  If  it  were  money,  infinitely 
better  had  they  cast  it  into  the  ocean,  and  thus  de- 
prived themselves  of  the  means  of  indulgence.  If 
it  were  talent,  far  better  to  have  been  half-witted. 
If  it  were  education,  better  to  have  remained  in 
ignorance.  For  a  dreadful  retribution  awaits  those 
who  squander  God's  gifts. 

If  God  has  placed  any  of  my  readers  in  a  favoured 
position,  let  them  beware  not  to  waste  the  gift.  If 
you  are  situated  where  industry,  morality,  and  piety 
would  advance  you  to  honour  and  influence;  do  not 
by  idleness  and  the  pleasures  of  youth,  cast  away 
this  opportunity.  It  is  far  nobler  to  gird  yourself 
for  the  contest  of  life,  and  be  a  brave  champion  for 
the  holy  and  the  good,  than  to  supinely  rot  in  self- 
indulgence.  Self-indulgence  can  only  bring  an  ach- 
ing and  diseased  body,  and  an  untimely  grave  ; 
while  virtue  and  self-denial  bring  their  own  reward. 

Every  thoughtful  person  has  watched  and  la- 
mented the  ruinous  living^  which  the  habits  of  the 
age,  and  the  notions  of  personal  indulgence  have 
produced.  There  has  been  a  wide  departure  in 
all  the  land  from  the  moderation  of  our  fore- 
fathers. Our  cities  have  become  the  scenes  of 
ruinous  living,  if  not  riotous.  Every  nerve  is 
strained  to  keep  up  appearances.  The  ambition  of 
multitudes  is  to  be  like  their  neighbours,  or  to  sur- 
pass them.  Young  people  seek  to  begin  life,  where 
their  parents   close  it.     Men   earn  money  only  to 


RUINOUS   LIVING.  63 

"waste  it.  A  bridal  dress  often  costs  as  much  as  the 
whole  outfit  of  our  grandmothers.  And  to  dress  a 
child  is  as  expensive,  as  twenty  years  ago  it  was  to 
clothe  a  man.  The  w^orst  of  foreign  manners  have 
been  aped.  Our  old  republican  and  puritan  sim- 
plicity has  yielded  to  Paris  life.  Polite  society  in 
our  cities  sneers  at  our  time-honoured  notions  of  pro- 
priety. The  husband  and  wife  must  be  divorced, 
outside  of  their  own  doors.  He  escorts  to  places 
of  amusement  his  neighbour's  w^ife  or  daughter ;  and 
a  corresponding  liberty  is  granted  to  his  own  wife. 
We  find  men  so  immersed  in  business,  that  they 
leave  their  households  to  the  care  of  w^hom  it  may 
concern.  And  the  mother  commits  her  tender  babes 
to  the  care  of  the  uncouth  Bridget,  misnamed  a 
nurse ;  while  she  promenades  the  streets,  or  spends 
the  late  hours  of  night  at  the  opera. 

In  multitudes  of  families,  the  all-important  duty 
of  home  training  is  neglected;  and  home-culture, 
and  home-comforts  are  unknown.  The  father's 
place  and  the  mother's  is  at  home.  There  they 
should  seek  their  happiness.  Each  other's  society 
should  be  dearer  to  them  than  all  the  giddy  pleasures 
of  merry-makings.  And  yet  often  do  we  witness 
an  abandonment  of  the  home  by  the  husband,  who 
spends  his  evenings  abroad  seeking  pleasure,  while 
the  patient  wife  sits  solitary,  encumbered  with  all 
domestic  care.  This  is  ungenerous.  It  is  in  spirit 
a  violation  of  the  solemn  marriage-vow^s.  It  must 
end  in  jealousies  and  heart-burnings,  if  it  do  not 


64  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

break  out  into  crimination  and  recrimination.  Why 
should  the  husband  habitually  absent  himself  in  the 
evening  any  more  than  the  wife,  when  business  does 
not  require  it?  And  yet  we  can  plainly  see  that  the 
home  would  be  destroyed,  if  the  wife  were  always 
away.  Happy  would  it  be  for  our  country  and 
our  children,  if  we  would  return  to  the  home-life 
of  olden  times.  It  were  a  pity  and  a  sad  disgrace 
to  mar  this  noble  Saxon  heritage  of  home ;  and 
hand  it  down  to  coming  generations  tainted  with 
French  manners  or  Italian  freedom.  It  is  not  in 
the  wigwam  of  the  Indian,  nor  the  harem  of  the 
Turk,  nor  the  tent  of  the  Arab,  nor  the  aoul  of  the 
Tartar,  that  you  find  liome;  but  only  in  the  family 
of  the  Saxon  race. 

This  riotous  living  has  its  pleasures.  It  appeals 
to  our  depraved  natures.  It  is  just  what  the  un- 
renewed heart  fancies.  The  paradise  of  Mahomet 
is  the  heaven  which  suits  man.  Amid  all  this  gid- 
diness and  pleasure,  the  remonstrances  of  reason 
and  conscience  are  stifled.  For  thus,  in  the  quaint- 
ness  of  Quarles,  the  riotous  liver  soliloquizes :  "  Tell 
me  no  more  of  fasting,  prayer,  and  death,  they  fill 
my  thoughts  with  dumps  of  melancholy.  These 
are  no  subjects  for  a  youthful  ear ;  no  contempla- 
tions for  an  active  soul.  Let  them  whom  sullen 
age  has  weaned  from  airy  pleasures,  whom  wayward 
fortune  hath  condemned  to  sighs  and  groans,  whom 
sad  diseases  have  beslaved  to  drugs  and  diets  ;  let 
them  consume  the  remnant  of  their  wretched  days 


RUINOUS    LIVING.  65 

in  dull  devotion  ;  let  them  afflict  their  aching  souls 
with  the  untunable  discourses  of  mortality ;  let  them 
contemplate  on  evil  days,  and  read  sharp  lectures  of 
their  experience.  For  me,  my  bones  are  full  of 
unctuous  marrow,  and  my  blood  of  sprightly  youth. 
My  strength  of  constitution  hath  power  to  grapple 
with  sorrow,  sickness,  nay  the  very  pangs  of  death, 
and  overcome.  'Tis  true,  God  must  besought;  what 
impious  tongue  dare  be  so  basely  bold  as  to  contra- 
dict so  known  a  truth? — and  by  repentance  too; 
what  strange  impiety  dare  deny  it  ?  But  there  is  a 
time  for  all  things.  If  my  unseasonable  heart 
should  seek  Him  now,  the  work  would  be  too  serious 
for  so  green  a  seeker.  My  thoughts  are  yet  unset- 
tled, ray  fancy  yet  too  gamesome,  my  judgment  yet 
unsound.  What  is  once  to  be  done,  is  long  to  be 
deliberated.  Let  the  boiling  pleasures  of  the  re- 
bellious flesh  evaporate  a  little,  and  let  me  drain  my 
boggy  soul  from  those  corrupted  inbred  humours  of 
collapsed  nature  ;  and  when  the  tender  blossom  of 
my  youthful  vanity  shall  begin  to  fade,  solid  judg- 
ment will  begin  to  ripen,  my  rightly  guided  will 
shall  be  resolved.  Till  then,  my  youth  will  be  dis- 
turbed with  every  flash  of  pleasure,  misled  by  coun- 
sel, turned  back  with  fear,  puzzled  with  doubt,  in- 
terrupted by  passion."*  Thus  you  reason.  But 
remember  "  whom  thou  hast  lost  by  too  long  delay, 
thou  mayest  not  find  with  too  late  a  diligence." — 
You  may  not  find  Crod  at  the  journei/s  end. 

■3-  Qufirlf.s'  Jutlgmcnt  and  Mercy — The  Procrastinator. 
6  • 


66  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

But  there  may  be  ruinous  living  which  shall  not 
go  to  the  extreme  of  a  noisj,  vicious  life.  The 
v>^ord  which  describes  the  prodigal's  course,  and  is 
■^  translated  riotous,  means  living  unsavinglj,  destruc- 
tively ;  living  with  no  thought  or  care  of  one's  se- 
curity, with  no  desire  but  for  present  enjoyment.* 
This  takes  in  a  wider  reach  than  the  other,  and  in- 
timates far  less  of  open  disgrace.  May  not  a  mul- 
titude of  reputable,  moral  men  be  included  in  this 
kind  of  living  ? 

That  is  ruinous  living,  which  is  a  life  without  a 
y  practical  remembrance  of  God.  It  is  a  trite  remark 
that  practical  atheism  is  fearfully  prevalent.  Many 
a  moral,  honest,  industrious  man,  who  attends 
church,  and  reads  his  Bible  on  Sunday,  is  an  atheist. 
He  may  shudder  at  the  charge,  but  his  conduct 
proves  it  true.  He  does  not  act  with  reference  to 
his  Maker's  will.  He  goes  and  comes,  he  buys  and 
sells,  he  plans  and  accomplishes,  without  one  thought 
of  the  duties  which  God  requires  of  him.  In  all 
but  the  mere  belief  in  the  existence  of  the  Deity, 
and  some  vague  notions  of  his  word,  and  an  accept- 
ance of  Christianity  as  the  true  religion,  he  is 
atheistical.  He  does  not  regard  God  as  a  being  to 
be  worshipped  and  loved.  As  the  prodigal  acted 
without  one  thought  of  the  father  from  whom  he 
had  received  his  portion  ;  so  do  men  conduct  their 
business  with  no  regard  to  the  God  who  made  and 
preserves  them.      "  We   may  turn  from  open  vice, 

*  Dr.  Tyng. 


RUINOUS   LIVING.  67 

and  come  among  the  amiabilities,  the  noblenesses, 
the  stern  and  lofty  virtues  of  our  social  life.     And 
amid  these  we   discover  the  same  forgetfulness  of 
God.      This   amiability  and  virtue  exist  independ- 
ently of  God.      It  seeks  no  guidance  from  him;  it 
asks  no  strength  from  him.       It  is  self-sufficient, 
self-acting.       That  amiability  loves  everything  but 
God.     That  self-devotion,  so  ready  to  sacrifice  itself 
to  others'  welfare,  never  surrenders  one  gratification 
for  the  sake   of  God.       That  indomitable  energy, 
which  effects  so  many  deeds  of  benevolence,  never 
wrought  one  work  for  God,  solely  because  it  was  for 
God.      That  enduring  patience,  which  faints  at  no 
toil  for  others,  has  shrunk  from  the  labour  of  praisincr 
and  adoring  God."*      That   love  which  can  watch 
over  the  sufferer  patiently  through  the  long  hours 
of  night,  cannot  watch  even  one  hour  with  the  Lord. 
The  noble  affections  of  the   heart  are  bestow^ed  on 
art,  on  nature,  on  books,  on  friends,  but  not  on  God. 
This  is  the  ruinous  living  of  thousands.       It  may 
shock  them  to  be  told  that  this  is   ruinous ;  for   it 
seems  lovely,  pure,  and  of  good  report.   Do  we  carp 
at  that  living  ?    No  !    Not  at  what  they  do,  but  at 
what  they  lack.       They  lack  God  enthroned  in  the 
heart.     It  is  not  a  temple  in  which  he  dwells. 

Among  multitudes  there  is  no  positive  crime,  but 

there  is  a   life  without   a  thought   of  the   world  to 

come.       It  is  a  mere  rushing  on  in  the  headlong 

pursuit  of  earthly  objects.      Each  day  absorbs  the 

*  W.  Archer  Butler's  Sermons. 


■^v 


68  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

mind  by  its  business  or  its  cares.  Even  the  holy 
Sabbath  does  not  stay  the  current  of  worldliness. 
Sickness  scarcely  impresses  the  mind  with  serious- 
ness. From  the  death-bed  they  rush  to  the  plough, 
the  counter,  or  the  desk.  There  may  be  a  ruin  of 
the  soul  in  the  mere  devotion  of  its  powers  to  earthly 
and  lawful  pursuits ;  just  as  complete  as  though  it 
were  wedded  to  the  grossest  vice.  Men  may  be 
diligently  applying  themselves  to  their  calling  in 
life,  and  be  securing  well-merited  fame.  They  may 
be  rising  in  the  esteem  of  every  one  but  God.  They 
may  be  making  their  mark,  but  it  is  only  on  tablets 
of  clay — their  names  are  not  in  the  Lamb's  book 
of  life.  They  are  laying  up  treasures  here  for  loved 
ones,  but  are  securing  no  glorious  and  eternal  re- 
unions in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  However  praise- 
worthy all  this  care  for  earthly  matters,  it  is  ruinous 
living  for  the  soul.  For  thought  is  devoted  to  all 
else,  but  the  true  interests  of  the  immortal  soul. 
While  correct  views  are  entertained  on  morals  and 
manners,  and  on  public  and  social  questions,  there 
seems  to  hang  over  the  soul  a  cloud  or  a  mist, 
through  which  only  dimly  comes  the  light  of  heaven. 
God  is  in  the  firmament  of  that  soul ;  but  he  is  there 
as  the  sun  in  a  foggy  atmosphere.  The  soul  sees 
his  disc,  and  can  define  his  position  ;  but  there  is  no 
warmth  in  his  rays  to  remove  the  chills  and  damps 
of  earth,  which  surround  and  infuse  that  soul.  It 
does  not  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God.  Care- 
less living  for  the  soul  is  ruinous  living  for  eternity. 


THE   WAY   OF   THE   TRANSGRESSOR   IS   HARD.    69 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR  IS  HARD. 

And  when  he  had  spent  all,  there  arose  a  mighty 
famine  in  that  land,  and  he  began  to  be  in  2vant. 
And  he  went  and  joined  himself  to  a  citizen  of  that 
country ;  and  he  sent  him  into  his  fields  to  feed 
swine.  And  he  would  fain  have  filled  his  belly  with 
the  husks  that  the  sivine  did  eat ;  arid  no  man  gave 
unto  him. 

God  has  linked  together  cause  and  effect,  and  no 
man  caii'  separate  them.  You  throw  a  stone  into 
the^r,  and  it  will  fall  to  the  earth.  You  cannot 
pTeVent  it,  any  more  than  you  can  arrest  the  sun  in 
the  heavens.  You  put  wax  in  the  sun,  and  it  melts, 
you  cannot  make  the  sun  harden  it.  Oil  added  to 
the  flames  increases  the  fire ;  you  cannot  diminish 
the  fire  while  oil  is  thrown  in.  And  God  has  affixed 
to  a  sinful  coxirse  of  life,  a  bitter  end  ;  and  no  man  who 
pursues  that  sinful  career  can  escape  that  bitter  end, 
God  has  appointed  as  a  rule  in  the  moral  world, 
that  profligacy  and  sin  shall  result  in  ruin ;  and  we 
can  no  more  break  the  connection  between  sin  and 


70  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

ruin,  than  we  can  break  that  force  jdu'cb  draws  a 
stone  to  the  earth. 

^  Because  God  separates  cause  and  efFect_in_  the 
moral  world  hy  an  interval^  we  fail  to  be  irDp.ressed 
with  its  indissoluble  connection  ;  "because  sentence 
^  against  an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily,  there- 
fore the  heart  of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in 
them  to  do  evil."  If  every  profligate  ran  speedily 
on  to  destruction,  we  would  stand  aghast.  But  it 
often  takes  years  to  descend  from  thei'ather!gjK)use 
to  die  hog-sty.  If  the  first  crime  committed  in 
secret  was  immediately  followed  by  the  conse- 
quences which  close  up  a  course  of  sinful  indul- 
gence, we  would  see  the  connection  more  clearly 
than  we  do.  When  the  admonition  rings  in  the 
ear,  the  answer  comes  in  the  heart, — "  I  have  often 
done  so,  and  not  yet  have  I  suflfered."  And  yet 
•^  Grod  has  said,  and  all  experience  confirms  it — "  The 
way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard." 

This  is  applicable  not  alone  to  iliis  world,  but  to 
transgressors  everywhere  in  the  universe.  God  go- 
verns this  world  upon  the  same  principles  which 
apply  to  all  created  beings.  ''  Without  law,  or 
altogether  above  law,  man  can  never  be,  for  the  law 
is  the  expression  of  the  divine  essence  itself.''"^  To 
the  extent  of  our  knowledge,  the  laws  in  relation  to 
sin  were  the  same  among  angelic  beings,  as  with  the 
human  race.  For  when  Satan  and  his  host  sinned, 
I      they  found  that  the  way  of  the  transgressor  was 

•  Olshausen. 


THE   WAY   OF   THE   TRANSGRESSOR   IS    HARD.    71 

hard.  Hurled  from  their  own  habitation/*  and  re- 
served in  everlasting  chains  under  darkness,  unto 
the  judgment  of  the  great  day,"  they  have  learned, 
asTias  every  other  transgressor,  that  "it  is  an  evil 
thing  and  bitter  to  sin  against  the  Lord." 

And  the  father  of  transgression  among  men,  "who 
^opened  the  drama  of  sin  upon  earth,  became  the  first 
illustration  that  the  law  of  heaven  was  the  law  of 
this  world.  Adam  was  a  sinner  and  his  way  was 
hard».  We  can  faintly  conceive  of  the  hardships 
which  our  parents  endured,  thrust  out  from  that 
blissful  Paradise,  and  compelled  to  toil  in  sweat  and 
pain.  For  the  work,  which  in  Eden  was  a  source 
of  pleasure,  became,  after  the  fall,  a  source  of  dis- 
tjie^.  At  one  of  the  corners  of  the  great  thorough- 
fares of  New  York  City,  in  the  winter  of  1862, 
stood  a  man  behind  a  small  table,  upon  which  were 
exposed  for  sale  diiferent  kinds  of  eye-glasses.  A 
gentleman  who  had  lost  his  along  the  street,  stopped 
to  purchase,  when  the  following  was  narrated : — 
•  ,  *'Sir,  I  have  been  here  only  a  short  time.  I  for- 
merly lived  in  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  was  in  good 
circumstances.  But  myself  and  family  were  com- 
pelled to  flee,  in  order  to  save  our  lives.  We  barely 
succeeded  in  getting  on  a  vessel  about  sailing  for 
this  city,  and  secreting  ourselves  in  the  hold.  We 
had  no  time  to  save  anything,  not  even  money 
enough  to  pay  our  passage.  We  landed  here  with- 
out a  cent.  We  could  not  pay  rent,  but  we  have 
found  a  cellar  up  town  that  we  get  for  nothing ;  and 


72  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

my  wife  and  I  make  enough  to  keep  us  in  food  and 
clotliing."  Was  it  not  hard  to  go  from  a  comforta- 
ble home  to  live  in  a  cellar  ?  And  so  was  it  hard 
for  Adam  and  Eve  to  live  anywhere  but  in  Eden. 
It  was  hard  for  this  man  to  stand  in  the  cold  and 
slush  of  January  and  peddle  eye-glasses.  And  it 
was  hard  for  Adam  to  sw^eat  among  thorns  and 
thistles.  Oh  how  often,  during  the  hundreds  of 
years  he  lived  after  his  expulsion,  must  he  have 
thouo-ht  of  the  loveliness  of  that  sacred  home;  and 
of  the  happy  days  spent  there!  Add  to  this  the 
sorrow  he  reaped  in  his  children.  Abel  was  slain 
by  his  own  brother :  and  all  the  scenes  of  bloodshed 
and  violence  which  were  ever  coming  to  his  ears, 
were  like  dagger-strokes  in  his  heart.  For  he  was 
the  cause  of  it  all.  Surely  the  way  of  that  trans- 
gressor was  hard ! 

The  course  run  by  the  younger  son  is  briefly 
stated,  though  it  may  have  occupied  years.  Leav- 
ing his  father's  house,  he  hasted  into  a  far  country, 
and  joined  himself  to  the  ungodly,  and  his  riotous 
living  brought  him  to  penury  and  degradation. 
Like  many  a  thoughtless  son  who  inherits  an  estate, 
he  imagines  there  can  be  no  end  to  his  thousands. 
He  is  prodigal,  instead  of  making  judicious  outlays. 
He  goes  into  bad  company,  where  money  will  be 
drawn  from  him  faster  than  it  can  be  made.  He 
becomes  a  high  liver,  a  riotous  liver.  No  fortune, 
however  large,  can  endure  such  drains.  Unex- 
pectedly, and  almost  without  warning,  he  finds  him- 


THE   WAY   OF   THE   TRANSGRESSOR   IS   HARD.    T3 

self  penniless.     And  now  evils    accumulate.     For  ^ 
hard  times  come  on — "  ancTa  mighty  famine  arose." 
He  was  so  unaccustomed  to  business ;  and  dissipa- 
tion had  so  incapacitated  him  for  respectable  em- 
ployment ;  that  to  get  his  living,  he  had  to  descend 
to  the  most  degrading  service  a  Jew  could  perform   / 
— to  feed  swine.     But  even  to  this  depth  of  shame 
his  evil  habits  pursue  him.     By  luxurious  living  hisj/^ 
digestive  organs  were  deranged,  so  that  an  unhealthy 
appetite  tormented  him.     And  to  stop  its  cravings,  7 
he  crammed  his  stomach  with  the  husks  which  the 
swine  did  eat.     These  husks  were  not  the  pods  of 
other  fruit— not,  for  instance,  like  our  corn-husks. 
They  were  the  fruit_of  the  carob  tree.     It  is  often 
called  St.  John's  bread,  from  the  tradition  that  the 
Baptist  fed  on  it  when  in  the  wilderness.     Sold  at     V 
a  very  low  price,  being  exceedingly  abundant,  it  is 
sometimes  eaten  by  the  poorer  people :  although  it 
is  mainly  used  for  feeding  domestic  animals.     The 
carob  is  common  in  Spain,  and  still  more  so  on  the 
northern  coast  of  Africa,  and  in  the  Levant.     It  is 
somewhat  like  a  bean-pod  in  shape,  but  more  in  the 
form  of  a  sickle.     The  shell  or  pod  alone  is  eaten. 
It  has  a  dull  sweet  taste.     The  fruit  within  is  bitter, 
and  is  cast  aside. 

This  whole  description  is  striking,  and  for  the 
evident  relation  in  which  his  punishment  stands  to 
his  sins.  "  He  who  as  a  son  would  not  be  treated 
liberally  by  his  father,  is  compelled  to  be  the  servant 
of  a  foreign  master.     He  who  would  not  be  ruled 


74  THE   PRODIGAL    SON. 

by  God  serves  the  devil.  He  who  would  not  abide 
ia  his  father's  house  is  sent  to  the  field  among 
swine.  He  who  would  not  dwell  among  brethren 
arid  princes,  is  obliged  to  be  the  servant  and  com- 
panion of  brutes.  He  who  would  not  feed  on  the 
bread  of  angels,  petitfohs  in  his  hunger  for  the 
husks  of  swine."*  Was  not  the  way  of  this  trans- 
gressor hard  ? 

We  have  within  the  compass  of  this  brief  narra- 
tive, the  way  of  every  transgressor.  The  parts  of 
his  career  are  brought  closely  together.  We  see  at 
a  glance,  what  may  be  traced  out  in  a  lifetime. 

The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard  because,  it 
ruins  health.  Without  health  man's  days  are  mis- 
erable. We  should  do  all  we  can  to  preserve  a 
sound  body.  If  we  would  have  the  future  days  of 
our  life  exempt  from  disease  and  painful  maladies, 
which  will  be  like  rottenness  in  the  bones  ;  we  must 
follow  Paul's  advice  to  Timothy — "  Flee  youthful 
lusts,,"  Early  indulgences  in  eating  aad  drinking, 
or  any  other  kind  of  dissipation,  w411  lay  the  foun- 
dation of  physical  distress.  The  young  man  given 
to  late  hours,  and  late  suppers,  to  wine  and  cigars, 
will  lose  the  bloom  of  youth ;  and  premature 
wrinkles  and  sallowness  will  overspread  his  face — 
unless  the  redness  of  dissipation  hides  it.  Visit  the 
various  sanitary  establishments  of  the  land,  and 
you  find  in  them  numbers  of  broken  down  young 
men  and  women  ;  and  those  scarcely  in  the  prime 
*  Trench  on  Parables. 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR  IS  HARD.  75 

of  life.  Thus  robbing  themselves  of  the  pleasures 
of  life,  which  might  long  have  been  enjoyed ;  they 
learn  that  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.  Do 
not  forget  that  yietij^  morality^  and  industry  lead  to 
haj}pi72ess,  longevity,  and  health. 

The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,  because  it 
hrings  to  poverty.  Poverty  is  not  disgraceful  in  it- 
self. Nor  are  the  poor  always  unhappy.  Often 
there  is  more  real  comfort  in  the  cottage  than  in  the 
palace.  That  sweet  story  of  the  Shepherd  of  Sal- 
isbury Plains  shows  us  this.  But  those  who  become 
poor  through  their  own  prodigality  are  the  most 
ivretched  jyoor.  They  are  irrecoverably  indolent, 
helpless,  untidy,  and  wasteful.  It  seems  as  though 
they  can  never  get  out  of  their  thriftless  habits. 
The  remembrance  of  better  days  is  always  a  dark 
cloud  on  their  minds.  Hence,  when  we  say,  that  a 
life  of  self-indulgence  brings  to  poverty,  we  assert  that 
it  is  a  positive  evil.  And  whether  one  has  a  fortune  to 
spend,  or  lays  out  each  dollar  as  he  can  get  it,  the 
result  will  be  the  same — poverty.  A  Mr.  Roggleton 
recently  died  in  London,  who,  in  ten  years,  literally 
ate  up  a  fortune  of  $750,000.  This  singular  per- 
son traversed  all  Europe  for  the  sake  of  gratifying 
his  appetite.  In  1849  he  stole  away  the  cook  of 
Prince  Potemkin,  in  Russia.  He  had  agents  in 
China,  Mexico,  and  Canada  to  supply  him  with  the 
rarest  delicacies.  A  single  dish  sometimes  cost  him 
$250.  What  was  the  end  of  such  extreme  folly  ? 
On  the  13th  of  April  nothing  was  left  him  but  a 


76  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

solitary  guinea,  a  shirt  and  battered  hat,  and  the 
other  clothes  on  him.  With  the  guinea  he  bought 
a  woodcock,  which  he  had  served  up  in  the  highest 
style  of  culinary  art.  He  gave  himself  two  hours 
of  rest  for  an  easy  digestion,  and  then  jumped  into 
the  Thames  from  Westminster  Bridge,  and  was 
drowned.     He  died  as  a  fool  dieth. 

The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,  because  it 
leads  to  excess.  No  delusion  is  greater  than  that 
we  can  stop  when  we  please  in  a  career  of  self- 
indulgence.  A^tone  does  not  stop  sinking  in  the 
water  until  it  reaches  the  bottom.  And  when  a  man 
begins  to  go  down  the  hill  of  sinful  practices,  he 
seldom  pauses  until,  like  the  prodigal,  he  mires 
with  the  swine.  A  lad  who  steals  and  is  sent  to  the 
penitentiary,  generally  steals  again  when  he  comes 
out.  "  One  evil  invites  another  ;  and  when  God  is 
angry  and  withdraws  his  grace,  and  the  Holy  Spirit 
is  grieved  and  departs  from  his  dwelling,  the  man  is 
left  at  the  mercy  of  the  merciless  enemy,  and  he 
shall  receive  him  only  with  variety  of  mischiefs  : 
like  Hercules,  when  he  had  broken  the  horn  of 
Achelous,  he  was  almost  drowned  with  the  flood 
which  sprang  from  it ;  and  the  evil  man,  when  he 
hath  passed  the  first  scene  of  his  sorrows,  shall  be 
enticed  or  let  fall  into  another."* 

If  my  reader  has  a  limit  to  his  indulgence  beyond 
w^hich  he  will  not  go,  and  at  which  he  will  halt,  let 
me  say,  that  he  will  not  stop  at  that  point ;  for  he 
*  Jeremy  Taylor — Apples  of  Sodom. 


THE    AYAY   OF   THE   TRANSGRESSOR   IS    HARD.    77 

"will  be  carried  far  on  bj  the  momentum  of  sin. 
Then  he  will  have  no  disposition  to  turn.  Sin  will 
be  too  sweet.  He  will  be  the  slave  of  sin.  ^atan 
is^xerj  willing  to  accept  us  for  a  few  years,  because 
he  knows  that  he  will  probably  have  us  for  ever. 

The  prodigal's  course  is  wretched,  because  its 
pleasures  soon  pass  away.  The  pleasures  of  sin, 
like  the  husks,  fill  but  never  satisfy.  For  a  time  the 
soul  is  intoxicated  by  them.  Life  is  a  round  of 
gaiety,  and  glee.  Nothing  disturbs.  Conscience  is 
asleep.  The  powers  of  indulgence  are  fresh.  But 
the  course  of  sensual  pleasure  is  soon  run.  The 
pleasure  which  the  man  had  in  these  indulgences,  is 
no  longer  aiforded  him.  He  hankers  after  them 
with  a  brutish  instinct.  Like  the  prodigal,  he  must 
have  something,  if  it  be  only  husks.  The  debauchee 
comes  down  from  his  wines  and  delicacies,  to  the 
vilest  rum,  and  the  cold  victuals  of  charity.  "What 
Pliny  said  of  the  poppies  growing  in  the  river  Cai- 
cus,  *it  brings  a  stone  instead  of  a  flower  or  fruit ;' 
so  are  the  pleasures  of  these  pretending  sins  ;  the 
flower  at  the  best  is  stinking,  but  there  is  a  stone  in 
the  bottom  ;  it  is  gravel  in  the  teeth,  and  a  man 
must  drink  the  blood  of  his  own  gums  when  he 
manducates  such  unwholesome,  such  unpleasant 
fruit.  It  is  a  great  labour  and  travail  to  live  a 
vicious  life."*  A  few  riotous  nights  suffice  to  work 
the  decay  of  years.  Bad  habits  are  formed,  which 
cannot  be  cast  ofi".     The  body  is  drained  of  life  by 

*  Jeremy  Taylor. 
7  * 


78  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

excess.  The  mind  is  darkened  and  obscured,  the 
temper  capricious,  the  affections  blunted,  hope  faded 
out,  self-respect  gone.  Oh  what  a  fearful  price  to 
pay  for  those  few  days  of  sensual  pleasure! 

This  issue  is  sure  to  come.  It  may  not  always 
be  immediate.  There  may  be  a  period  of  gratifica- 
tion and  delight  in  transgression,  long  continued, 
when  the  eye  is  not  tired  of  seeing  nor  the  appetites 
glutted  with  indulgence.  The  summer  and  the 
winter  both  pass  in  their  turns.  The  morning 
cometh,  and  also  the  night.  But,  sooner  or  later, 
the  glare  of  enjoyment  is  shut  out  by  returning 
clouds  of  conscious  distress,  and  the  day  of  mirth 
sinks  into  the  darkness  of  despair.* 

How  truthful  an  illustration  of  all  this  waning 
of  the  pleasures  of  sin  is  presented  in  Byron,  who, — 
with  everything  that  fortune,  rank,  and  genius,  could 
give  him ;  but  who  laid  out  his  whole  life  for  self- 
indulgence,  and  not  for  duty  and  noble  deeds — ex- 
claimed, before  he  had  reached  half  the  allotted 
period  of  man, 

My  days  are  in  the  yellow  leaf, 

The  flowers,  the  fruits  of  love  are  gone. 
The  worm,  the  canker,  and  the  grief, 
Are  mine  alone ! 

What  are  these  deeply  affecting  lines  but  the 
confession  of  one,  who,  having  spent  all,  found  him- 
self in  spiritual  want !     And  the  prodigal's  misery, 

♦  Dr.  Tyng. 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR  IS  HARD.      79 

and  sense  of  the  barrenness  of  sin,  find  a  yet  deeper 
wail  in  this  same  poet : 

The  fire  that  on  my  bosom  preys, 

Is  lone  as  some  volcanic  isle; 
No  torch  is  lighted  at  its  blaze, 
A  funeral  pile. 

One  of  the  most  awful  consequences  of  sin  is 
REMORSE.     Beneath  its  terrific  blows  the  hauorhtiest 
and  most  hardened  wretch    has  wailed  piteously. 
Like  a  demon  it  haunts  the  transgressor  everywhere. 
If  no  other  punishment  were  inflicted  in  this  life, 
the  way  of  the  transgressor  would  indeed  be  hard. 
A  time  comes  when  the  victims  of  the  licentious  can 
no_J.pnger  be   banished  from  the  mind.     Memory 
keeps  them   there.     They  seem   to  rise   from  the 
grave,  or  come  out  from  dens  of  infamy,  and  stare 
the   seducer  in   the  face.     Their  reproaches    ever 
tingle  in  the  ear.     The  rest  of  night  is  disturbed  by 
them.     Keep  them  away  !  keep  them  away  !  breaks 
out  in  his  fitful  slumbers ;  and  betrayed  confidence 
has   its   revenge.      A   clergyman   wrote   thus    of 
Graves,  a  noted  duellist,  who  shot    Cilley.     *'  He 
died  the  victim  to  the   most  horrible  of  horrors. 
Two  years  he  passed  in  sleepless  nights,  with  rooms 
lighted,  and  with  watching  friends,  whom  he  was 
unwilling  to  have  for  a  moment  leave  his  presence. 
He  consumed  the  hours  of  night  in  walking  to  and 
fro,  in  frightful  starts,  in  moans,  and  groans,  and 
tears ;  and  in  wild  exclamations.     At  length,  worn 


80  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

out  with  mental  anguish,  and  grief  unmitigated,  and 
wasting  watchfulness,  the  unhappy  man  expired." 

"  There  is  no  peace  to  the  wicked."  We  need 
not  be  debauchees,  nor  duellists,  to  experience  that. 
A  thousand  memories  of  the  past  arise  to  flood  with 
tears  the  eyes  of  the  sinner,  and  to  pierce  his  heart 
with  sorrow. 

*'  O  pleasures  past,  what  are  you  now 
But  thorns  about  my  bleeding  brow  ? 
Spectres  that  hover  round  my  brain, 
And  mock  and  aggravate  my  pain  ?" 

The  course  of  the  transgressor  is  often  short. 
Their  excesses  exhaust  life,  or  cut  it  off  hastily. 
How  often  we  see  a  young  man  digging  his  own 
grave  by  his  vices!  Frequently  the  "wicked  do 
not  live  out  half  their  days."  I  knew  a  kind-hearted 
youth,  generous  to  a  fault,  who  early  fell  into  bad 
company.  At  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  was  seen  in- 
toxicated. He  acquired  a  taste  for  ardent  spirits. 
He  used  profane  language.  He  was  licentious. 
Efforts  were  made  to  save  him.  He  was  taken  into 
the  country,  that  he  might  be  away  from  the  temp- 
tations of  the  city ;  but  his  vicious  habits  were  ever 
craving  indulgence.  Three  miles  from  his  home 
was  a  wretched  hovel,  where  a  degraded  sot  lived 
by  himself.  Thither  this  young  man  often  went, 
and  passed  half  the  night.  Early  one  morning, 
just  before  day-break,  he  set  out  on  his  return  from 
the  night's  debauch.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
snow,  which  had  just  fallen.     He  was  intoxicated, 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR   IS   HARD.      81 

and  grew  cold  and  weary,  and  finally  sank  down  in 
the  snow  near  a  farm-house.  He  was  discovered  by 
the  inmates,  and  taken  to  his  own  home.  His  hands 
and  his  feet  were  so  frozen  that  in  spite  of  all 
efforts  they  could  not  be  restored  to  their  natural 
state.  Mortification  ensued,  and  amputation  became 
necessary.  Both  his  feet  were  taken  off  above  the 
ankles ;  and  nearly  all  his  fingers.  This  was  too 
great  a  tax  on  his  enfeebled  system.  He  sank  into 
a  decline ;  and  in  four  months  went  down  into  an 
early  grave,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four.  His  sun 
*'went  down  while  it  was  yet  day."  Though  there 
was  hope  in  his  death,  still  the  way  of  that  trans- 
gressor was  hard. 

Before  closing  this  chapter,  let  us  give  our 
thoughts  a  wider  reach.  We  may  be  moral  and 
blameless  in  our  deportment.  Men  may  justly  es- 
teem us.  And  yet  living  prayerless,  impenitent, 
unbelieving,  "  without  God,"  we  are  transgressors 
— transgressors  against  God,  if  not  against  man. 
And  as  such  our  way  must  be  hard.  We  see  that 
one  who  violates  natural  laws  is  overtaken  by  its 
consequences ;  how  can  any  escape  who  violate 
spiritual  laws  ?  If  abuse  of  the  body  brings  disease 
and  death,  what  shall  be  the  effect  of  abusing  the 
soul  ?  Whatsoever  we  sow,  of  temporal  things,  we 
reap  the  same.  Does  the  process  cease  at  the  grave  ? 
Scripture  says  it  does  not.  Approach  this  death- 
bed, and  listen :  "  I  have  nothing  to  expect,  sir, 
but  condemnation."     The  speaker  articulated  with 


82  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

difficulty.  Struck  down  suddenly  from  full  health 
to  the  bed  of  death,  he  made,  there  and  then,  agoniz- 
ing confessions.  "  There  is  a  demon  whispering 
in  my  ear,  You  knew  it  at  the  time,  and  at  every 
time."  Knew  what  ?  "  Why,  that  a  penalty  must 
follow  a  broken  law.  Mark  me.  I  have  not  opened 
a  Bible  for  twenty  years.  Yet  the  very  recollection 
that  my  mother  taught  me  to  pray,  (and  she  died 
when  I  was  only  six  years  old,)  has  passed  judg- 
ment upon  all  my  sins.  I  have  done  wrong,  know- 
ing that  it  was  wrong ;  first  with  a  few  qualms, 
then  brushing  aside  conscience,  and  at  last  with 
the  coolness  of  a  fiend.  Sir,  in  one  minute  of  all 
my  life,  I  have  not  lived  for  heaven. 

"  Yes  !  Christ  died  for  sinners,  but  I  can  see 
almost  into  eternity.  I  can  feel  that  unless  Christ 
is  desired,  sought  after,  that  unless  guilt  is  repented 
of,  his  death  can  do  no  good.  If  we  sow  thorns, 
you  know  we  cannot  reap  flowers  ;  and  corn  don't 
grow  from  thistle  seed.  I  have  been  following  up 
the  natural  laws,  and  I  see  an  affinity  between  them 
and  the  great  laws  of  God's  moral  universe.  Heaven 
was  made  for  the  holy.  There  is  a  distinction — 
it's  all  right." 

He  sunk  into  a  slumber.  Presently,  aroused  by 
the  striking  of  a  clock,  he  looked  around  and  whis- 
pered— "  It's  awfully  dark  here.  My  feet  stand  on 
the  slippery  edge  of  a  great  gulf.  Oh !  for  some 
foundation."  He  stretched  his  hand  out  as  if  feel- 
ing for  a  way. 


THE  WAY  OF  THE  TRANSGRESSOR  IS  HARD.  83 

"  Christ  is  the  only  help,"  said  the  man  of  God. 
"Not  for  me.  I  shall  fall — I  am  falling,"  he  half 
shrieked  an  instant  after ;  he  shuddered  and  all 
was  over. 

Let  us  look  a  little  further,  just  where  our  Lord 
raised  the  curtain.  "The  rich  man  also  died,  and-G^^ 
was  buried  ;  and  in  hell  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  being 
in  torments,  and  seeth  Abraham  afar  off,  and  Laz- 
arus in  his  bosom.  And  he  cried,  and  said.  Father 
Abraham,  have  mercy  on  me,  (he  did  not  call  on 
God,  he  dared  not,)  and  send  Lazarus,  that  he  may 
dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  water  and  cool  my 
tongue ;  for  I  am  tormented  in  this  flame.  But 
Abraham  said.  Son,  remember  that  thou  in  thy  life- 
time receivedst  thy  good  things,  and  likewise  Laza- 
rus evil  things ;  but  now  he  is  comforted  and  thou 
art  tormented."  Was  not  the  way  of  that  trans- 
gressor hard  ? 


84  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 


CHAPTER  YII. 

THE  PRODIGAL  COMING  TO  HIMSELF, 
OR  CONVICTION  OF  SIN. 

And  when  he  came  to  himself^  he  said^  How  many 
hired  servants  of  my  father  s  have  bread  enough  and 
to  spare,  and  1  perish  with  huriger  ! 

"  Hitherto  we  have  followed  the  sinner,  step  by 
step,  in  a  career  which  is  ever  carrying  him  further 
and  further  from  God.  Another  task  remains — 
to  trace  the  steps  of  his  return,  from  the  first  be- 
ginnings of  repentance  to  his  full  reinvestment  in 
all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  a  son.  For  though 
he  has  forsaken  his  God,  he  has  not  been  forsaken 
by  Him."* 

The  younger  son  had  reached  the  bottom.  There 
he  sits  among  the  swine,  the  most  unclean  and 
beastly  of  beasts — himself  fed  with  what  they  eat. 
A  man  might  lie  among  lions,  bears,  or  wolves,  if 
possible  ;  he  might  consort  with  the  deer,  or  the 
sheep ;  and  yet  retain  some  semblance  of  decency. 
But  nothing  more  vile  and  wretched  can  be  imag- 
inedj,J;han  to  be  a  companion  of  that  animal,  which 
-c-  ._.^  *  Trench. 


CONVICTION   OF  SIN.  85 

is  a  synonym  for  all  that  is  uncouth,  disgusting,  and 
bestial.      AYhen  we  wish  to  express  our  thorough 
abhorrence  of  a  man's  habits  and  life,  we  say,  he  is  - 
a  hog. 

Behold,  ye  transgressors,  where  your  path  ends ! 
The  licentiousness,  crimes,  and  follies  of  life  empty 
themselves  here.  This  is  the  goal  to  which  they 
conduct  their  followers.  Few  get  out  of  it.  More 
rot  in  the  hog-sty  of  sin  than  recover  and  get  out. 
Here,  in  the  great  majority  of  cases,  the  curtain 
drops  upon  them,  and  they  are  seen  no  more.  They 
stretch  their  dying  limbs  upon  a  cot  in  the  hospital, 
or  are  dredged  up  from  the  bottom  of  a  river,  and 
unwept  they  are  flung  into  the  Potter's  field. 

Our  Lord  presents  a  picture  of  man  reduced  to 
the  greatest  extremity  and  want,  and  steeped  in 
iniquity.  And  this  is  to  show,  not  alone  how  vile 
man  may  become,  but  also  and  mainly,  how  power- 
ful is  that  grace  of  the  gospel,  which  can  reclaim 
him.  Reclaim  him  not  merely  to  virtue's  paths,  but 
to  his  father's  bosom. 

The  first  step  in  this  reclamation  is  to  become  7\ 
conscious  of  our  situation.  In  the  expressive  lan- 
guage of  the  parable,  the  prodigal  "  came  to  him- 
self." He  had  been  living  out  of  himself,  contrary 
to  his  own  best  interests.  He  had  been  like  a  man 
in  the  excitement  of  battle,  or  in  the  phrensy  of 
passion.  He  did  not  stop  to  think,  or  else  he  de- 
liberately banished  thought.  What  an  awakening, 
when  such  an  one  comes  to  himself!     He  sees  how 


86  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

low  he  has  fiillen.  Tj^a  .crimes  or  misdeeds  which 
soil  his  character ;  the  bright  prospects  which  illumi- 
nated his  pathway  in  early  life,  but  which  now  are 
displaced  by  storms,  and  a  dreary  waste  ;  tears  shed ; 
hearts  broken ;  graves  hiding  those  who  mourned 
his  follies ;  a  wife,  a  mother  who  ended  bitter  days 
because  of  his  deeds — these  which  burst  from  their 
lurking  places  in  his  heart,  come  forth  and  sting 
like  vipers.  He  becomes  loathsome  in  his  own  eyes, 
and  writhes  under  the  keen  sting  of  self-reproach. 
Is  it  a  marvel  that,  goaded  by  such  recollections, 
he  often  falls  back  into  his  old  habits — prefers  the 
sty  to  all  these  horrors  which  meet  him  on  the 
threshold  of  reformation  ?  And  so  the  sow  before 
she  is  washed  returns  to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire. 

But  this  younger  son  was  saved  from  such  a  re- 
lapse. He  "  came  to  himself,"  and  saw  himself  in 
his  true  character.  He  had  never  been  dulj  affec- 
ted by  his  base  ingratitude  in  leaving  home.  JVow 
i  his  treatment  of  that  kind  father  fills  him  with  the 
deepest  remorse.  He  has  squandered  his  fortune, 
he  has  disgraced  himself,  but  above  all,  he  has  been 
an  ungrateful  son.  Tn  later  life^  nothinp;  points  the 
arrojys  .of  remorse  like  unkind  treatment  of  our 
parents.  As  their  love  towards  us  is  the  strongest 
ever  bestowed  on  us ;  so  that  love  unrequited,  abused, 
causes  the  most  poignant  sorrow.  It  is  something 
we  can  never  get  over.  Tears  of  penitence  do  not 
wash  away  its  corroding  power. 

And  in  the  sinner's  heart,  who  is  coming  to  him- 


CONVICTION   OF   SIN.  87 

self,  arises  this  remembrance  of  Cfod's  slighted  love. 
He  traces,  all  through  his  life,  indications  of  the 
Divine  forbearance.  Pie  now  beholds,  as  never  be- 
fore, and  in  amazement,  long-suffering,  abundance 
of  goodness,   and  mercy. 

"  Ten  thousand  times  his  goodness  seen, 
Ten  thousand  times  his  goodness  grieved," 

He  can  scarcely  credit  the  retrospect.  He  in- 
quires, Why  was  all  this  to  me  ?  Why  am  I  alive, 
when  so  many  of  my  contemporaries  are  in  the 
grave  ?  Why  have  I  been  shielded  from  calamity, 
which  has  overwhelmed  others  ?  Why  have  I  been 
prospered,  when  they  were  thwarted  at  every  step  ? 
And  what  have  I  done  in  return  for  all  this?  Can 
I  call  those  transient  emotions  I  have  had  gratitude  ? 
Can  the  God  who  has  been  so  indulgent  to  me  be 
content  with  those  fragments  of  thought,  those 
shreds  of  my  time,  which  I  have  bestowed  upon  him  ? 
Alas !  I  must  confess  myself  an  ungrateful  child  ! 
And  he  who  is  of  a  noble  soul,  in  all  that  relates  to 
the  amenities  and  proprieties  of  life,  may  well  hang 
his  head  as  he  recalls  all  his  forgetfulness  of  God. 
Now  his  true  character  of  heart  is  revealed.  He 
discovers  that  all  his  care  has  been  to  have  an  un- 
sullied record  for  man  to  look  at;  but  how  tarnished 
is  that  which  God  beholds! 

The  sinner  comes  to  himself,  and  finds  an  angry 
God.  This  Being  is  justly  offended  with  him.  Men 
may  carp  about  God's  anger  as  inconsistent  with 
his  holiness  and  love ;  but  the  awakened  sinner  is 


88  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

never  troubled  by  such  doubts.  He  feels  that  all 
his  life  of  thoughtlessness  and  irreligion  could  not 
confront  his  Maker,  without  receiving  the  frowns  of 
that  Maker.  The  more  his  sins  multiply  in  number, 
the  deeper  grows  the  feeling  that  God  is  angry  with 
him.  Sometimes  he  becomes  greatly  alarmed.  He 
hears  the  terrible  voice  of  the  Judge.  He  reads 
his  death  warrant  in  the  threats  of  the  law.  Sin 
ceases  to  appear  of  small  consequence.  Sin  con- 
fronts him  at  every  turn,  as  he  reviews  his  life.  He 
meets  it  where  he  never  saw  it  before.  His  own 
esteemed  works  of  righteousness  are  vain.  His 
virtues  are  of  no  value.  All  he  is,  and  all  he 
has  done,  are  so  faulty  and  corrupt,  that  God  must 
be  angry  with  everything  about  him.  He  seems  to 
be  in  a  desert,  and  whichever  way  he  turns,  there,  in 
awful  majesty,  appears  that  offended  God. 

The  convicted  sinner  comes  to  himself,  i.  e.,  he 
comes  hachJ,o  himself.  He  has  been  away  from 
himself,  ouf  of  Hmself.  He  meant  to  live  for  him- 
self, but  so  has  Satan  deceived  him,  that  he  has 
been  living  against  himself,  against  his  own  eternal 
interests.  Eor  ho  only  lives  for  himself,  who  lives 
for  God.  And  in  coming  to  himself,  the  sinner 
meets  a  being  whom  he  has  never  known  before. 
He  aivakes  to  the  reality  and  importance  of  his  own 
nature,  to  a  consciousness  of  his  immortality.  He 
experiences,  as  never  before,  that  he  has  a  soul  over 
which  death  has  no  power.  This  contrast  between 
himself,  and  the  nature  of  his  pursuits,  prostrates 


CONVICTION    OF   SIN.  89 

him  in  deep  abasement.  He  regards  himself  as  the 
child  of  a  prince,  and  yet  rolling  in  voluntary  filth 
and  beggary.  Said  a  talented  youth,  in  these  cir- 
cumstances, "  What  a  poor,  degraded  thing  seems 
m}^  whole  life  to  me ;  never  before  did  I  seem  to 
have  a  thought  or  an  object  becoming  my  real  char- 
acter and  being."*  Thus  changed  become  his  con- 
ceptions of  life,  and  of  what  is  most  valuable. 

The  convicted  sinner  comes  to  himself  and  finds 
wher^^Juujis.  The  prodigal  found  himself  a  com- 
panion  of  SAvine.  Undoubtedly  he  was  startled 
when  he  realized  his  position.  And  so  the  sinner 
finds  himself  among  God's  enemies.  Whatever  re- 
spect he  may  profess  for  the  Deity,  he  is  not  "  on 
the^liord^s  sjde."  HLe  is  a  companion  of  lost  spirits, 
tho- -worst  of  God's  intelligent  creatures.  He  would 
shrink  from  associating  with  the  debased,  and  yet 
his  soul  is  the  dwelling-place  of  spirits  from  the  pit. 
They  roam  at  pleasure  and  tarry  at  will,  in  all  the 
chambers  of  his  heart.  Eor  the  Holy  Spirit  is  not 
there  to  keep  them  out.  Life,  too,  has  gone  by, 
and  nothing  is  done  as  to  the  great  purpose  of  life 
— to  prepare  for  death.  To-morrow  he  may  be 
summoned  to  the  grave,  and  what  has  he  for  that 
to-morrow  ?  What  has  he  to  show  for  all  these 
days  ?  A  few  dollars,  a  high  reputation — perhaps 
not  even  these.  What  has  he  that  he  can  take  away 
with  him  ?  Will  the  result  of  his  labours  greet  him 
in  the  next  world  ?     Will  he  be  as  happy  there  as 

•  Dr.  Tyng. 
8* 


90  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

he  is  here  ?  Every  tiling  has  been  given — his  very 
soul  has  been  staked  upon  this  venture.  And  what  is 
received  in  return  ?  Anything  imperishable  ?  Any- 
thing which  can  endure  the  flames  which  are  to  try 
every  man's  work  ?  Kevolving  such  thoughts,  he 
feels  that  strength  was  spent  for  that  which  is 
nought,  and  labour  for  that  which  profiteth  not. 

By  such  contemplations  as  these,  the  awakened 
sinner  reaches  the  conclusion  of  the  prodigal — iUL 
perish  with  hunger."  Oh  how  this  cry  comes  out  of 
thousands  of  hearts,  who  know  not  the  cause  of  their 
hunger !  They  are  surrounded  by  comforts,  and 
luxuries ;  they  are  prosperous,  and  healthy  ;  they 
have  friends ;  and  yet  their  souls  are  not  at  ease. 
All  this  does  not  satisfy.  There  is  a  void  unfilled, 
a  hankering  ungratified.  They  imagine  the  fault 
to  be  in  those  things  about  them.  And  they  resort 
to  change,  but  no  relief  comes.  In  their  own  heart 
is  the  secret  of  failure.  There  was  food  enough 
around  the  prodigal,  but  it  was  not  what  his  nature 
required.  So  there  is  a  sufficiency  around  man,  but 
they  are  not  what  his  spiritual  nature  craves.  It 
was  contrary  to  nature  that  the  prodigal  should  cram 
himself  with  husks ;  and  it  is  contrary  to  man's 
spiritual  nature,  to  attempt  to  satisfy  the  soul  by 
that  which  pleases  the  senses.  Hence  the  soul  is 
hungry  with  all  man's  pampering  to  it.  It  says  of 
mirth,  it  is  mad.  Occupation  and  gain  give  it  no 
relief.  Gain  is  a  miserable  substitute  for  godliness ; 
and  yet,  how  common  a  substitute  it  is !  Sometimes 


CONVICTION    OF   SIN.  91 

insanely  man  tries  to  drink  away  care,  attempting 
to  drown  it  in  the  intoxicating  cup.  He  dances, 
but  it  is  in  chains.  He  feasts,  but  it  is  in  prison. 
He  returns  from  his  bank,  his  shop,  his  counter,  his 
office ;  from  riots  and  indulgences.  In  all  these  he 
is  unsatisfied  and  hungry.  Why  ?  The  soul  does 
not  want  these,  it  craves  God.     It 

Pants  to.view  his  glorious  face, 

Upward  tends  to  his  abode, 
To  rest  in  his  embrace. 

The  late  Prince  Albert,  so  beloved  in  England, 
said  on  his  deathbed  to  his  physician :  ''  No,  I  am 
not  afraid ;  I  trust  I  am  prepared  for  death.  I  have 
wealth,  and  rank,  and  honour,  and  I  thank  God  for 
them ;  but  if  these  luere  all,  I  should  be  a  miserable 
man.''  He  continually  repeated  in  his  short  illness 
that  hymn, 

Kock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me. 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee. 

The  soul  is  never  at  rest  until  it  is  reconciled  to 
God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

From  all  this  do  not  imagine  that  I  believe  the 
world  to  be  a  desolate,  forlorn  spot.  We  come  to 
thorns  and  thistles  as  did  our  father  Adam — by 
our  oivn  sins.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  gloomy  r 
views  of  earth.  It  is  much  better  than  we  deserve.  ' 
Much  good  can  be  had  on  it.  Our  blunders  render 
it  far  worse  than  it  otherwise  would  be.  "  Sin  de- 
stroyeth  much  good."  And  an  ungrateful  and  dis- 
contented spirit  may  extract  poison  from  the  fairest 


92  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

flowers.  I  protest  against  this  charging  upon  this 
earth,  that  which  is  the  consequence  of  man's  own 
forgetfulness  of  God.  The  way  to  enjoy  the  world 
is  not  to^ervert  its  blessin^g^jioOSL^^'ttempt^to  get 
from  it  what  can  only  be  obtained  from  religion^ — 
contentment  d^ndi  peace  of  mind.  The  fullest  enjoy- 
ment of  this  life  is  only  secured  in  God  and  through 
God. 

As  one  goes  through  a  round  of  pleasure,  and 
finds  it  all  vanity,  so  men  often  wander  from  one 
system  of  error  to  another,  finding  each  unsatisfying. 
Through  the  dismal  swamps  of  Atheism,  Pantheism, 
and  Universal  Salvation,  and  many  similar  devices 
of  Satan,  the  soul  travels  seeking  good.  But  all 
are  vain ;  they  are  the  heartless  mockery  of  real 
distress.  They  aggravate,  they  cannot  alleviate. 
The  soul  experiences  a  want  which  these  have  no 
power  to  supply.  The  soul  listens  to  their  pompous 
pretensions,  their  empty  boasts,  surveys  the  whole  of 
what  they  present ;  tries  them;  worries  through  them, 
and  at  last  comes  back  to  its  unrelieved  condition 
of  misery.  Or  if  spared  this  desolate  wandering, 
the  human  heart  tries  various  expedients ;  such  as 
plans  of  personal  amendment,  and  schemes  of  indi- 
vidual virtue  founded  on  human  resolution  and 
strength.  And  then  one  false  hope  after  another  is 
tested.  There  is  a  self-righteous  confidence,  a  proud 
and  unbelieving  spirit,  a  holding  off  from  Christ. 
In  all  these  modes  does  the  convicted  sinner  perish 
with  hunger. 


CONVICTION    OF   SIN.  93 

Thus  the  Holy  Spirit  visits  the  lost  one.  He 
knocks  at  the  door  of  his  heart.  He  opens  his 
eyes  so  that  he  sees.  He  recalls  the  words  of  God 
taught  long  since  by  a  mother.  A  forgotten  sermon, 
with  its  startling  admonitions,  speaks  again  from 
the  past.  Convicted  soul !  follow  him  ;  he  will  lead 
you  to  your  God.  He  will  teach  your  palsied  lips 
to  pray.  Smitten  though  you  be  with  blindness  ; 
though  you  grope  about  and  tremble,  lest  at  any 
moment  you  stumble  into  the  pit,  put  forth  your 
hand  and  follow  him. 


94  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

REPENTANCE. 

I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father,  and  I  will  say 
unto  him  :  Father^  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and 
lefore  thee,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy 
son  ;  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants.  And 
he  arose  and  came  to  his  father. 

In  this  most  instructive  fifteenth  chapter  of  Luke 
we  have  a  lost  sheep,  a  lost  coin,  and  a  lost  man ; 
all  of  which  are  intended  to  represent  different 
phases  of  man  and  God,  as  related  to  each  other 
in  sin  and  redemption.  Man  is  like  a  sheep  astray ; 
like  a  piece  of  money  which  has  fallen  among  rub- 
bish, or  rolled  out  of  sight ;  like  a  foolish  youth, 
who  leaves  his  father's  house,  and,  ruled  by  passion, 
rushes  into  a  dissolute  career,  and  spends  all  his 
wealth  and  debases  mind  and  body.  And  now,  how 
is  he  to  get  out  of  this  f  We  are  told  how  "the 
sheep  is  found  ;  how  the  money  is  recovered ;  and 
also  how  man  is  to  be  reclaimed. 

The  awakened  sinner  knows  that  he  is  lost. 
Already  he  has  experienced  that  it  is  an  evil  thing, 
and  bitter  to  sin  against  the  Lord  his  God.    Misery 


REPENTANCE.  95 

in  himself,  misery  around  him,  misery  in  prospect, 
are  his  portion.  In  this  darkness  which  overspreads 
him,  one  gleam  of  hope  has  begun  to  shine.  It  is 
the  twinkle  of  the  Star^of^Bethlehem.  Let  him 
fQ]law^Tt,^"aiid  he  shall  be  brought  to  the  threshold 
of  heaven,  and  there  receive  a  Father's  bounty  and 
love. 

But  many  refuse  this  "  light  shining  in  a  dark 
place."  Rather  than  accept  heaven's  solution  of 
the  most  difficult  of  all  questions — how  man  may  be 
justified  before  God — they  attempt  to  solve  it  of 
themselves.  Some  betake  themselves  to  moral  re- 
formation ;  and  others  to  benevolent  actions.  I 
knew  a  man  who  built  a  church  at  his  own  expense ; 
and  no  doubt  he  expects  the  Lord  to  admit  him  to 
heaven  on  that  account,  just  as  did  those  who  cried, 
"  Lord,  Lord,  have  we  not  prophesied  in  thy  name, 
and  in  thy  name  done  many  wonderful  works  ?"  and 
yet  he  has  not  the  love  of  God  in  his  heart ;  nor 
does  he  profess  to  follow  Christ.  If  man  could 
'purchase  an  entrance  into  heaven,  multitudes  of  the 
rich  would  be  adherents  of  Christ.  If,  according  to 
Rome,  a  man  could  endow  an  institution,  bequeath 
a  part  of  his  fortune  to  the  church ;  be  absolved  by 
a  priest,  receiving  a  wafer  on  his  tongue,  oil  on  his 
ears,  and  man's  breath  into  his  nostrils,  how  much 
less  would  the  cross  be  shunned  ! 

Multitudes  of  minds  are  awake  on  the  subject  of 
religion  ;  but  never  rightly  guided,  they  struggle  on 
in  all  the  energy  of  despair,  gaining  nothing  and 


96  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

coming  no  nearer  the  true  light.  You  see  them  in 
the  heathen  workl,  among  the  Mormons,  among  the 
followers  of  the  last  deceiver  who  comes  up,  draw- 
ing his  inspiration  from  the  pit.  These  poor  victims 
are  earnest,  deeply  anxious,  willing  to  do  or  suffer 
anything  to  gain  a  substantial  hope.  Yet  they 
persistently,  wilfully  reject  the  gospel,  which  alone 
is  able  to  make  them  wise  unto  salvation.  How 
tenaciously  men  will  cling  to  errors,  and  how  shrewdly 
they  will  defend  them  ! 

That  part  of  the  prodigal's  history  presented  in 
this  chapter,  points  out  the  onl^u^atli  to  heaven.  It 
sh(ms_Just  what  an  awakened  sinner  mud  do.  All 
other  ways  are  side-paths,  which  terminate  in  heTT. 
However  proper  they  may  seem ;  however  well  re- 
commended ;  however  plausibly  teachers  may  trace 
them  out  on  paper,  and  to  you  may  prove  by  their 
lines,  that  these  ways  must  end  in  heaven — they  are 
not  only  hypothetically  but  actually  ial^Q )  io\\o\{ 
them  and  you  go  on  to  certain  ruin. 

Let  us  travel  along  the  path  which  the  Prodigal 
took.  IIe--arose;  "I  will  arise."  In  this  terse 
description  this  is  not  a  useless  word ;  it  denotes 
action  and  determination.  He  would  remain  no 
longer  where  he  was.  His  purpose  was  fixed  to 
leave  those  swine,  whether  he  ever  bettered  him- 
self. 

Such  a  resolve  must  come  into  the  returning 
sinner's  heart.  He  must  arise.  He  must  not- ^it 
bewailing   his  misery ;  'iiglTing  over  his  wretched- 


REPENTANCE.  97 

pess.  IIe_must_.DQ.Lwisk.  Liift&elf  saved  ;  he  must 
arise.  He  must  leave  those  sins  and  go  to  the  cross, 
where  alone  he  can  be  unburdened.  Many  stay 
months  and  even  years  in  this  sty  of  sin.  They  see, 
they  confess,  their  deplorable  state ;  but  they  will 
not  arise.  We  point  them  to  the  cross,  but  they 
tell  us  they  cannot  get  there.  We  urge  them  to 
ask  God's  help,  by  prayer,  and  yet  they  remain 
fixed,  like  the  impotent  man  at  Eethesda.  The 
sinner  must  arise.  He  must  quit  his  sins.  If  any 
object  be  too  dear  to  forsake,  then  he  must  remain 
among  the  swine ;  and  that  sin,  or  that  object  which 
he'cannot  renounce,  is  the  millstone  which  will  sink 
him  to  perdition.  The  sincere  penitent  "  doth  with 
grief  and  hatred  of  his  sin  twrn^iom  it  unto  God, 
with  full  purpose  of,  and  endeavour  after,  new 
obedience."  Thj^ unwillingness  to  part  from  sin  is 
evidence  that  the  heart  is  not  truly  convinced.  ^ 
There  are  cells  in  it  yet  unopened  by  the  Holy 
Spirit.  There  is  a  frightfulness  in  sin  which  it  has 
not  yet  experienced.  Lot's  wife  was  loath  to  leave  / 
Sodom,  and  she  never  did  in  her  heart ;  and  because 
her  heart  was  in  Sodom,  her  body  never  reached  a 
place  of  safety. 

*'  I  will  arise."  Noble  resolve  !  Let  Satan  hold 
you  no  longer  !  Let  the  world  attract  you  no  more ! 
Let  not  that  deceitful  heart  detain  you !  Arise 
from  thy  sins  ;  from  thy  despondency  ;  from  thy 
delay.  And  whither  shall  I  go  ?  To  the  Father.  "  I 
will  arise  and  go  to  ray  father,"  said  the  Prodigal. 


98  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

Surely  that  heart  is  now  touched,  subdued,  melted. 
He  remembers  the  father's  love,  and  tenderness,  and 
^-sympathy.  The  filial  feeling,  so  long  dormant,  is 
Inow  awakened.  He  will  go  to  the  one  whom  he  has 
injured,  despised ;  and  whose  authority  he  spurned. 
And  we  should  go  to  the  God  whose  commands 
we  have  set  at  naught  all  our  lives ;  to  him  who  is 
pleased  to  allow  us  to  call  him  our  Father.  Yes  ! 
we  have  a  Father  and  a  home.  Though  we  may 
/  have  wandered  long,  and  sinned  grievously,  we  are 
not  orphans,  nor  homeless.  There  is  a  shelter  for 
-~  our  souls.  There  is  a  God  ready  to  be  reconciled  to 
us  through  Jesus  Christ.  And  that  Father  tells  us 
how  willing  he  is  to  receive  us.  In  this  respect,  the 
sinner  is  more  favoured  than  was  the  prodigal.  He 
knew  not  the  reception  he  should  meet.  He  could 
only  hope  for  the  best.  But  the  offer  of  mercy  and 
pardon  is  made  in  advance  to  the  children  of  men. 
Then  why  not  go  to  God  ?  are  not  the  invitations  as 
'pressing  as  language  can  make  them  ?  as  warm  as  a 
Father's  love  can  render  them  ?  "  Him  that  coraeth 
unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  "  The  blood 
.  of ~  Jesus  Christ  his  Son  cleanseth  from  all  sin.'* 
Can  we  not  trust  in  that  love,  mercy,  and  pardon, 
which  are  pledged  in  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  ? 
The  Saviour  has  paved  the  way  for  reconciliation. 
Every  barrier  he  has  removed.  An  eastern  pro- 
verb says,  "  If  man  draws  near  to  God  an  inch, 
God  will  draw  near  to  him  an  ell."  God  sees  us  afar 
oiT.     Every  sinner  must  go  to  Qod)  with  ''  grief  and 


REPENTANCE.  99 

hatred  of  his  sin,  he  must  turn  from  it  unto  God.'' 
Cain  and  Judas  saw  their  sin  ;  they  grieved  over 
them,  but  they  never  went  to  God.  Judas  hung 
hiii3sdf;_jCain .became  a  fugitive  and  a  vagabond. 
Djivid  saw  Ms  sin  ;  he  grieved  over  it;  he  hated  it; 
but  he  went  to  his  closet,  and  besought  in  tears 
God's  forgiveness.  Then,  start  at  once  to  this  lov- 
ing Father.  It  is  a  decision  upon  which  everything 
may  depend.  Instantly  arise  and  go  ;  and  however 
helpless  you  are,  God  will  bestow  the  power  to  carry 
it  out.  Nothing  can  be  more  simple,  nothing  more 
effective  and  real,  than  the  determination  and  choice, 
"I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father.'' 

"  Often  the  difficulty  in  the  way  hangs  upon  some 
single  fact  in  life  which  has  been  a  controlling  one 
— some  one  remaining  hostility  in  the  pride  of  the 
heart,  which  refuses  to  yield — and  in  the  severing 
of  that,  the  choice  may  be  made  free.  I  recall  to 
mind  a  very  interesting  and  attractive  young  man 
who  sought  me  once  for  religious  guidance.  He 
had  been  gay,  self-indulgent,  and  living  without 
God,  but  he  was  now  awakened  and  serious,  yet 
hesitating  and  proud.  His  wife  he  described  to  me. 
as  a  Christian  woman  :  but  he  acknowledijed  him- 
self  a  neglecter  of  God's  salvation,  yet  now  desiring 
to  find  the  way  of  peace.  Our  conversation  occu- 
pied a  long  evening.  At  last  I  said,  '  Now  go  home, 
take  your  stand  for  Christ  to-night ;  tell  your  wife 
that  the  time  past  of  your  life  has  been  enough  for 
sin,  and  that  you  now  mean  to  live  for  Christ,  and 


100  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

seek  the  kingdom  of  God.  Kneel  down  with  her, 
and  begin  your  united  prayer  to-night.  Will  you 
do  this?'  'No,'  he  replied,  'I  cannot.'  I  remon- 
strated and  entreated  in  vain  ;  he  was  immovable. 
I  then  said  to  him,  '  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,' 
and  for  some  minutes  we  sat  in  silence.  I  resumed 
the  book  which  I  had  been  reading,  but  presently 
repeated  the  question,  and  was  again  refused.  After 
some  minutes'  further  delay,  he  rose  from  his  seat 
and  sighed  deeply.  I  saw  the  tears  starting  from 
his  eyes,  and  I  asked  the  same  question  again.  He 
replied,  '  I  will,'  and  immediately  left  my  house. 
The  next  evening  I  saw  this  young  man  coming 
into  our  lecture-room  with  a  young  woman  leaning 
on  his  arm,  whom  I  had  often  marked  there  before, 
as  a  stranger  and  a  woman  of  a  sorrowful  spirit. 
They  came  to  the  front  seat  immediately  before  me, 
and  kneeled  together  in  silent  prayer.  At  the][ close 
of  our  worship  I  approached  them,  and  he  intro- 
duced his  wife  to  me.  I  told  her  what  he  had 
promised  me  the  night  before,  and  asked,  '  Did  he 
do  it  ?'  She  answered  me,  '  Yes,  he  did.'  I  turned 
to  him  and  said,  '  And  how  do  you  feel  to-night  ?' 
<  Sir,'  he  exclaimed,  '  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  the 
city  of  Philadelphia.'  For  several  years  this  young 
man  walked  as  a  useful,  active  follower  of  Christ, 
highly  valued  and  much  beloved.  He  closed  his 
pilgrimage  in  a  rapid  consumption.  On  one  occa- 
sion near  his  death  I  said  to  him,  '  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  evening  when  you  first  came  to  my  study  ?* 


REPENTANCE.  101 

*  Remember  it !'  said  he  ;  ^  I  shall  never  forget  it 
throughout  eternity.  It  Tvas  the  birthday  of  my 
soul.'  He  raised  his  feeble  hands  as  he  spoke,  and 
clasping  them  together,  covered  his  face,  and  burst 
into  tears."* 

The  third  feature  of  the  prodigal's  return  now  de- 
mands our  attention — Ids  confession  of  sin.  "  Father, 
I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and  in  thy  sight,  and 
am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son."  Most 
touching  words  !  What  thorough  humiliation  do 
they  evidence  !  How  changed  that  younger  son  ! 
Proud  spirited,  impatient  of  a  most  salutary  con- 
trol, with  the  flush  of  youth  on  his  cheek,  and  his 
bones  full  of  marrow,  he  w^ent  out  of  that  gate. 
Behold  him  now,  dirty,  ragged,  the  lines  of  dissipa- 
tion furrowed  on  his  countenance,  and  his  body  a 
wreck  !  And  yet  he  is  a  better  man.  He  is  more 
lovely.  There  is  more  hope  of  him  now.  For  he 
is  better  at  heart.  He  comes  home  for  forgiveness. 
He  sees  his  error.  Hear  him.  "  I  have  lost  my 
character  of  a  son,  for  I  have  disgraced  my  father ; 
I  have  dishonoured  my  family.  Shall  it  be  known 
that  I,  in  these  rags,  am  his  son  ?  How  can  I  main- 
tain the  dignity  of  the  house,  for  I  am  a  beggar  ? 
How  can  I,  who  have  been  a  companion  of  swine, 
sit  at  my  father's  table  ?" 

With  such  a  spirit,  the  repenting  sinner  comes  to 
God.  He  is  a  son,  but  a  son  who  has  lost  the  like- 
ness.    Can  the  Father  recognize  his  child,  in  that 

*  Dr.  Tyng. 
9  ♦ 


102  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

object  which  draws  near  him  ?  Shall  so  sinful  a 
creature  be  made  an  inmate  of  his  house  ?  "  I  have 
sinned^''  confesses  the  penitent.  Oh  what  a  word 
that  is  !  How  far  reaching  !  How  deep  down  it 
goes !  It  is  one  of  those  phrases  which  expresses 
volumes.  You  write  the  history  of  man's  entire 
earthly  course  in  those  three  words.  ''  I  have  sin- 
ned." It  is  the  heart  breaking.  It  is  the  heart 
pouring  itself  out  like  water  before  God.  It  is  the 
language  which  every  penitent  sinner  has  used  from 
age  to  age.  It  has  been  repeated  in  all  tongues. 
The  penitent  cannot  set  before  God  the  details  of 
his  sinfulness.  Nor  is  it  required.  This  one  ex- 
pression is  enough.  God  knows  all  our  sins,  far 
more  accurately  than  we  can.  He  wants  the  con- 
fession. He  wants  that  humbled  heart  from  which 
it  comes.  Notice  that  the  son  says  nothing  in  his 
justification.  He  does  not  begin — "  Father,  you 
know  that  youth  is  restive,  and  hankers  after  for- 
bidden pleasures.  I  was  led  away  by  the  power  of 
wealth.  Wicked  associates,  with  whom  unfortunate- 
ly I  went,  enticed  me.  In  a  moment  of  passion  I 
left  you."  No  !  Nothing  of  this  sort.  But  in 
deep  abasement  he  exclaims,  "  I  have  sinned."  How 
different  this  from  the  attempt  of  Adam  to  shift  the 
blame  off  his  own  head  ! 

Now  this  is  a  vital  point  in  our  repentance.  There 
must  be  no  make-shifts  with  God.  We  must  not 
attempt  to  crawl  out  of  some  of  our  sins,  by  putting 
them  on  father  Adam.      There  must  be  no  puling 


REPENTANCE.  103 

sentlmentalism  about  the  frailtj  of  human  nature. 
There  must  be  no  plea  that  we  tried  to  do  the  best 
we  could.  We  may  not  skulk  behind  the  unfavour- 
able circumstances  that  surrounded  us.  We  must 
not  even  look  askant  at  the  sins  of  Christians.  No  ! 
none  of  these  must  be  resorted  to.  But  there  must 
be  an  honest,  hearty,  out-spoken,  whole-souled  con- 
fession— zl  have  sinned.     "A  broken  and  a  contrite 


heart,"  God  must  have. 

And  now  one  step  more  remains.  The  prodigal 
implores  pardon.  ''  Make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired 
servants."  I  am  aware  that  these  words  are  often, 
perhaps  generally,  understood  to  refer  to  a  desire 
in  the  prodigal  to  have  his  sincerity  tested.  He 
wished  to  serve  under  his  father,  that  by  his  faith- 
fulness he  might  regain  paternal  confidence.  But 
I  shall  employ  this  request  in  another  way — to  sig- 
nify his  desire  to  be  received  into  that  family,  of 
which  once  he  was  a  member.  He  felt  that  he  could 
not  ask  to  come  in  as  a  son  ;  for  he  had  shown  him- 
self unfit  to  be  a  son ;  yet  the  next  highest  happi- 
ness would  be  to  serve  as  a  hired  man.  For  the 
word  does  not  mean  a  slave,  as  in  the  22d  verse. 
He  desired  to  be  where  that  father  was,  to  see  his 
face,  to  hear  his  voice;  even  though  it  should  be  as 
a^ervant.  And  the  burden  of  the  penitent  is  to 
have  his  guilt  removed.  He  craves  the  blessed 
words—"  Thy  sms,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven 
thee."  He  longs  to  see  that  Father's  face,  and  en- 
joy his  favour.     Oh  how  the  penitent  watches  for 


104  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

these  tokens  !  Day  and  night  he  cries  out  for  them. 
*'  Oh  that  I  knew  that  my  father  had  forgiven  me !" 
Need  I  guard  against  a  wrong  impression?  Have 
I  said  so  much  about  the  sinner's  doing,  that  Christ 
is  lost  sight  of  ?  Then  let  me  state  plainly.  It  is 
not  our  penitence,  nor  anguish,  nor  confession  of 
sin,  nor  even  the  coming  to  the  Father,  which  ob- 
tain pardon.  That  is  secured  only  by  the  atone- 
ment of  our  Lord  and  Saviour.  We  must  keep  him 
in  view  each  step  we  take.  Jesus  makes  us  wel- 
come. Jesus  has  made  return  possible.  And  yet 
we  must  arise,  and  go  to  Him. 

The  prodigal  said,  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my 
/  father :  and  he  went.  But  with  many,  between  this 
saying  and  the  actual  doing,  there  is  a  long  stand- 
ing still :  and  in  the  case  of  numbers,  irresolution 
and  a  turning  back  again.  Multitudes  of  the  hearers 
of  the  gospel  are  in  this  state  of  mind,  probably 
many  perish  just  in  this  way.  They  are  thoroughly 
convinced  of  their  personal  duty,  as  presented  in 
the  claims  and  promises  of  the  gospel.  But  convic- 
tion is  not  conversion.  Conviction  is  a  mere  know- 
ledge of  facts — a  knowledge  of  sin.  Its  value 
depends  on  what  it  leads  to.  The  enemy  may  come 
and  remove  all  these  convictions,  lead  away  to  sin, 
overwhelm  with  delusions,  or  ensnare  in  worldliness. 
To  go  to  God,  and  be  sheltered  by  him  is  the  only 
security.  The  object  of  conviction  of  sin,  is  the 
heart's  return  to  God.  Complete  submission  to  him 
is  its  end.     He  requii'es  instant  obedience.     Delay 


REPENTANCE.  105 

is_chosen  disobedience;  and  more  fearful  is  the 
punishment.  While  men  wait,  new  difficulties  and 
objections  are  started  in  their  minds  ;  the  work 
growsjmore  severe  every  day.  Reader,  you  will 
never  settle  this  matter  by  argument  and  discussion. 
There  must  be  decision  and  action.  You  must  arise 
and  go  to  Christ. 

"A  young  man  of  wealth  and  means  was  occupied 
in  a  large  commercial  office.  He  had  been  gay, 
volatile,  and  thoughtless.  He  had  never  yielded  to 
the  temptations  of  vice,  or  wandered  in  the  paths 
of  outward  immorality.  But  his  youth  had  passed 
without  religion,  and  his  maturity  had  opened  with 
no  promise  of  improvement.  He  was  suddenly  ar- 
rested in  his  bed  with  a  conviction  which  seemed  to 
charge  him  with  the  guilt  of  a  wasted  life,  and  a 
course  of  constant  neglect  of  the  God  who  had 
made  and  blessed  him.  The  past  of  his  career  was 
all  dissatisfying.  The  world  which  he  had  loved 
and  tried,  was  a  wide-spread  famine  around  him, 
ajid  'he  began  to  be  in  want.'  The  sudden  convic- 
tion was  succeeded  by  an  instant  purpose  of  return 
to  the  God  whom  he  had  despised.  'I  will  waste  no 
more,'  he  said  within  himself,  and  rose  immediately 
from  his  bed,  and  bowed  his  knees  upon  the  floor  in 
prayer.  *  He  arose  and  went  to  his  Father,'  in  an 
instant  action  of  his  own  heart  and  mind.  And 
the  conflict  was  ended.  He  went  on  his  way  rejoic- 
ing from  that  hour.  Hardly  minutes  of  mere  con- 
viction passed.     His  heart  at  once  embraced  the 


106  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

remedy.     He  saw  the  way  of  hope,  and  he  laid  hold 
of  it."* 

A  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  in  one  of  the 
sea-board  States,  was  brought  in  humble  penitence 
to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  He  sought  to  be  admitted 
to  the  communion  of  that  church  where  he  had 
been  a  worshipper.  As  he  entered  the  consistory 
room,  where  the  elders  of  the  church  were  convened 
to  receive  applicants  for  admission  to  their  commu- 
nion, he  exclaimed,  "I  will  arise  and  go  to  my 
Father,  and  will  say  unto  him,  Father,  I  have 
sinned  against  heaven  and  in  thy  sight,  and  am  no 
more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son,"  and  then  he 
burst  into  tears. 

Beautiful  words  are  these!  Hea,vep^own  lit- 
urgy in  which  to  confess !  None  but  Jesus  our 
High  Priest,  our  Advocate,  could  frame  so  exquisite 
a  conjiteor.  In  all  time  penitents  will  pour  out  their 
hearts  in  this  sublime  sentence. 

♦  Dr.  Tyng. 


THE   PRODIGAL   RECEIVED    AND   WELCOME.    107 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    PRODIGAL    RECEIVED    AND   WELCOME. 

But  when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  his  father 
saw  him,  and  had  compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on 
his  neck  and  kissed  him.  And  the  son  said  unto 
him,  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  in 
thy  sight,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  he  called  thy 
son.  But  the  father  said  to  his  servants,  Bring  forth 
the  best  robe  and  put  it  on  him  ;  and  put  a  ring  on 
his  hand,  and  shoes  on  his  feet :  and  bring  hither 
the  fatted  calf  and  kill  it;  and  let  us  eat  and  be 
merry;  for  this  my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again; 
he  was  lost  and  is  found.  And  they  began  to  be 
merry.  Now  his  elder  son  was  in  the  field  ;  and  as 
he  came  and  dreiv  nigh  to  the  house,  he  heard  music 
and  dancing. 

THEjsonfession  of  this  younger  son  was  no  shrewd 
artifice,  whereby  to  melt  an  obdurate  father.  It 
came  out  of  his  penitent  heart,  for  he  makes  his 
confession  after  the  manifestations  of  a  father's 
tenderness— ^/ife2L.ihe_.,embrace  and  the  kiss  which 
denoted   reconciliation.      Thougli    thus   graciously 


108  THE    PRODIGAL   SON". 

received,  he  does  not  omit  the  confession — I  have 
sinned — upon  which  he  had  determined.  Un- 
doubtedly that  confession  was  all  the  more  deep, 
because  of  this  unexpected  forgiveness. 

There  has  been  a  question  raised,  whether  repen- 
tance is  the  act  of  the  coiiverted  man  or  of  the  sin- 
ner;  whether  a  man  does  truly  repent  until  he  is 
converted.  This  narrative  shows  the  correct  view. 
Repentance_5?^^s  when  jvie_ are  in  the  far  off 
country,  wallowing  in  our  wretchedness;  \t increases 
as  we  go  on  to  our  Father ;  and  it  attains  its  'perfec- 
tion when  the  kiss  of  reconciliation  is  printed  on  the 
broWj,  I  say  reaches  its  peifection,  not  its  end.  For 
repentance  is  never  absent,  as  an  act  of  the  renewed 
heart.  Since  the  more  we  know  and  taste  of  the 
love  of  God,  the  more  we  grieve  ever  to  have  sinned 
against  that  love.  So  that  we  may  safely  say,  that 
the  truest  and  best  repentance /oZ^oz^'S,  but  does  not 
p-ecede  the  sense  of  forgiveness.  The  repentance 
which  precedes  may  be  characterized  by  more  agony., 
yet  it  is  less  rich,  clear,  and  melting.  The  reception 
of  the  prodigal,  as  illustrating  the  sinner  received 
by  our  heavenly  Father,  exhibits — tlie  Divine  mercy 
toward  man  ;  his  reinstatement  into  the  privileges  of 
a  son  of  God;  and  the  joy  caused  by  the  conversion 
of  men. 

3Ian  is  an  object  of  divine  mercy.  This  could 
not  be  set  forth  more  affectingly  than  it  is  in  the 
actions  of  the  father.  For^^ars  his  heart  had 
yearned  over  that  wandering  child.  He  had  prayed 


THE  PRODIGAL  RECEIVED  AND  WELCOME.  109 

for  his^  return  and  recovery.  And  lo  !  he  approaches 
the  house.  The  father  waits  not  in  silent  reserve, 
to  test  the  genuineness  of  his  penitence,  as  Joseph 
did  that  of  his  brethren.  He  flies  to  meet  him.  He 
does  not  recoil  from  the  swinish  reek,  which  even 
this  distance  has  not  dispelled.  He  does  not  draw 
back  with  dignity  from  the  tattered,  bloated  beggar. 
He  is  not  ashamed  to  embrace  him  in  the  public 
way.*  Without  waiting  for  a  word  of  explanation, 
he  Tails  onTis  neclc  and  kisses  him  tenderly.  His 
w^ole  soul  is  moved  within  him.  For  the  expres- 
sion, "  had  compassion  on  him,"  does  not  convey 
the  richness  of  the  original.  It  was  not  mere  pity, 
as  we  have  compassion  on  an  outcast ;  the  word  de- 
notes the  whole  emotional  nature  of  man,  as  it  shows 
itself  in  love,  kindness,  and  generosity.  This  was 
moved  into  its  liveliest  exercise,  and  was  wrought 
up  into  a  powerful  passion.  And  that  kiss  was  not 
only  a  token  of  affection,  but  a  pledge  of  reconcilia- 
tion. It  was  such  a  kiss  as  Esau  gave  Jacob,  when 
they  met  after  years  of  angry  separation — a  kiss 
denoting  that  all  past  hatred  and  differences  were 
cancelled. 

Now  all  this  is  a  meagre  draft  of  God's  love  to 
man.  For  there  is  this  vital  difference,  that  when 
the  divine  mercy  was  exhibited  in  the  plan  of  re- 
demption, man  had  not  taken  tlie  first  step  toivard 
return.  He  was  living  in  sin.  He  had  not  come 
to  himself.  He  had  not  resolved  to  go  to  his  Father. 

•  Stier's  "Words  of  Jesus. 
10 


110  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  God's  love  in  the  gift  of 
Jesus  Christ  ?  Nothing  in  the  acts  of  the  prodigal's 
father  corresponds  to  that. 

AVe  might  assert  that  man  is  the  object  of  divine 
mercy.  We  know  of  no  other  creature  towards 
whom  God  has  so  exhibited  mercy.  His  love  to  us 
was  free  and  sovereign.  What  are  men  compared 
to  angels,  seraphs,  cherubs  ?  Might  he  not  have 
sent  sinning  Adam  headlong  to  the  pit,  as  he  sent 
the  rebels  of  heaven  before  him ;  and  have  made 
another  man,  and  another  race  ?  What  caused  the 
difference  ?  Divine  mercy.  If  the  fallen  angels 
are  monuments,  to  the  entire  universe,  and  through- 
out all  eternity,  of  Grod's  justice ;  certainly  man  is 
a  monument  of  God's  mercy ^  to  the  entire  universe, 
and  throughout  all  eternity.  J'^iice.  is.  written  on 
the  brow  of  every  lost  spirit ;  mercy  is  engraved 
on  the  golden  crown  of  every  saint  in  heaven. 

The  repeMing  sinner  is  reinstated  as  a  son  of  Grod. 
The  highest  expectation  of  the  prodigal  had  been 
that  he  might  become  a  hired  servant.  And  if  he 
was  amazed  at  the  cordial  greeting,  that  amazement 
must  have  transcended  all  bounds,  when  "  the  father 
said  to  his  servants.  Bring  forth  the  best  robe,  and 
put  it  on  him  ;  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand,  and 
shoes  on  his  feet ;  and  bring  hither  the  fatted  calf, 
and  kill  it,  and  let  us  eat  and  be  merry ;  for  this 
7)iy  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again  ;  he  was  lost  and 
is  found."  My  son  !  Not  the  mere  words,  but  those 
acts  make  him  such — the  rohe,  the  ring,  the  shoes. 


THE    PRODIGAL    RECEIVED    AND    WELCOME.       Ill 

Here  we  have  the  taking  back  of  the  penitent. 
By  repentance  and  faith  in  Christ,  man  comes  back 
to  his  home — to  his  father.  This  is  his  proper  place. 
Here  are  the  objects  he  ought  to  love.  This  is  the 
being  to  whom  he  should  yield  obedience.  But  how 
wonderful  that  he  should  be  exalted  to  become  an 
inmate  of  God's  family  !  an  heir!  a  joint  heir  with 
Christ  !  How  great  the  dignity  conferred  on  re- 
penting man  !  Well  may  we  be  surprised  at  that 
superabounding  grace,  which  did  not  stay  at  bring- 
ing us  into  heaven,  but  has  advanced  us  to  glory  and 
honour  there.  In  that  blissful  home,  ransomed  sin- 
ners might  have  dwelt  by  themselves,  as  did  Israel 
in  Egypt ;  and  then  we  should  be  constrained  to 
praise  God  for  this  grace.  But  not  so.  Saints,  who 
once  were  full  of  sin  and  corruption,  cluster  about 
the  throne,  mingle  with  angels,  and  follow  "  the 
Lamb  whithersoever  he  goeth." 

This  unexpected  and  speedy  replacement  of  the 
younger  son  was  not  a  hasty  act,  which  the  too 
kind  father  should  have  deferred  awhile.  He  saw 
that  the  son  was  fitted  for  this  restoration.  He  was 
another  man.  The  father  saw  the  filial  spirit,  which 
never  before  was  possessed.  He  was  more  truly  a 
son,  than  when  first  introduced  to  us. 

And  in  like  manner  the  penitent  believer  is  pre- 
pared to  be  a  son.  He  has  a  new  heart.  Another 
spirit  is  within  him.  He  now  acknowledges  God's 
claims.  He  cheerfully  submits  to  his  rule.  He 
esteems  his  commandments  concerning  all  things  to 


112  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

be  right.  Sinful  indulgences  are  loathed.  His 
heart  is  better.  Manj  of  the  unclean  beasts  have 
been  expelled.  The  Holy  Spirit  is  there.  Sweet 
thoughts  of  heaven  are  there.  In  him  abideth  the 
love  of  God.  His  nature  is  changed.  He  is  becom- 
ing sanctified.  Thus  is  he  fit  for  the  church  here, 
and  the  church  above. 

But  let  us  consider  more  in  detail  the  several  acts 
of  this  re-establishment  of  the  prodigal;  and  that 
which  is  signified  by  them  in  the  returning  sinner. 
There  was  a  robe  to  cover,  a  ring  to  honour,  and  shoes 
to  'protect. 

A  robe  to  cover. — "  Bring  forth  the  best  robe  and 
put  it  on  him."  Opulent  families  in  the  East  kept 
a  large  supply  of  garments.  These  have  been 
known  to  number  several  thousands.  Much  of  their 
wealth  consisted  in  them.  These  garments  were  for 
the  use  of  guests.  And  I  suppose  the  custom  pre- 
vailed for  this  reason  :  Travelling  in  those  coun- 
tries was  mostly  performed  on  foot ;  consequently 
very  little,  if  indeed  any  extra  clothing  could  be 
carried.  A  traveller's  garments,  therefore,  would 
soon  become  greatly  soiled,  and  unfit  to  come  in 
contact  with  the  soft  mats  or  dwains  in  a  room.  As 
the  opulent  were  the  entertainers  of  respectable 
travellers,  they  kept  garments  for  their  use.  And 
in  their  weddings  and  convivial  entertainments,  it 
was  the  custom  to  provide  each  invited  guest  with 
SLSuitable  robe.  The  father  directs  his  servants  to 
this  wardrobe.     But  mark  the  emphasis.     He  does 


THE    PRODIGAL    RECEIVED    AND    WELCOME.    113 

not  say,  bring  out  a  robe;  but  tlie  robe,  the  best 
robe.  The  choicest  of  his  whole  wardrobe  was  to 
be  put  on  this  former  vagrant. 

This  at  once  suggests  to  us  the  robe  of  Christ's 
righteousness,  with  which  the  sinner  is  clothed.  For 
the  justification  of  the  believing  sinner  is  compared 
to  a  robe.  "He  hath  clothed  me  with  the  garments 
of  praise,  he  hath  covered  me  with  the  robe  of 
righteousness."  ^Is^lxi.  10.  "  I  counsel  thee  to  buy 
of  me  white  raiment  that  thou  majest  be  clothed." 
Rev.  iii.  18.  "  And  to  her  [the  church]  was  granted 
that  she  should  be  arrayed  in  fine  linen,  clean  and 
white ;  for  the  fine  linen  is  the  righteousness  of 
saints."  Rev.  xix.  8.  This  righteousness  is  the 
atonement,  whereby  the  Lord  Jesus  made  propitia- 
tion for  sin.  Ver}''  aptly  is  this  compared  to  a  robe. 
A  robe  covers  a  person,  hides  deformity,  or  maim- 
ing. On  that  prodigal's  body  may  have  been  the 
scars  and  ulcers  of  sin.  His  return  had  not  eradi- 
cated them  from  his  system.  But  the  garment  con- 
cealed them.  And  the  believer  is  not  rendered  a 
perfect  man  by  his  repentance  and  faith.  He  has 
a  different  spirit  and  a  better  hearty  yet  many  an  old 
Bore  remains,  which  will  trouble  him  as  long  as  he 
lives.  But  for  all  that  he  is  a  son ;  and  clothed  in 
the  righteousness  of  his  Saviour,  he  is  regarded  as 
without  spot  or  blemish.  All  his  defects  are  covered, 
his  sins  are  cancelled,  and  no  more  brought  to  no- 
tice. Christ's  righteousness,  the  robe,  is  that  at 
which  God  looks,  and  he  is  satisfied. 
10  • 


114  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

The  prodigal  is  clothed  with  the  robe,  the  most 
costly  of  all  in  the  house.  And  it  is  the  most  pre- 
cious robe  in  Jehovah's  realm,  which  clothes  the 
returning  sinner.  "  For  we  are  not  redeemed  with 
silver  and  gold,  but  with  the  i)recioushlood  of  Christ^'' 
who  being  the  eternal  son  of  God  died  for  us.  This 
is  no  ordinary  robe.  It  is  more  than  a  heavenly 
robe ;  it  is  godly.  It  is  not  the  robe  of  an  angel, 
but  of  a  God.  It  is  that  robe,  which  our  loving 
Father  has  preserved  from  all  eternity.  For  from 
the  bosom  of  the  Father  came  this  Redeemer.  It 
is  the  righteousness  of  a  God,  who  became  man, 
which  acquits  the  believer  from  the  penalty  of  the 
law.  Just  here  we  encounter  Christ  in  this  parable. 
Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  explain  the  ab- 
sence of  a  reference  to  the  mediating  propitiation 
of  the  Son  of  God.  But  this  mediation  is  no  more 
denied  by  silence,  than  is  the  seduction  of  Satan 
denied,  because  no  mention  is  made  of  it  in  the 
apostasy  of  the  sinner,  as  described  by  the  follies 
of  the  younger  son.  Christ  and  the  Father  are  one 
here,  as  they  are  in  heaven.  And  sufficiently  for 
the  purpose,  is  the  mediation  of  the  gospel  typified 
in  that  best,  long-reserved  robe. 

A  ring  ivas  placed  upon  his  finger.  To  give  a 
ring  was  a -mark  of  affection,  as  with  us.  Also  by 
it  office  was  conferred.  When  Joseph  had  inter- 
preted Pharaoh's  dream,  that  monarclTtook  the  ring 
off  his  own  finger,  and  put  it  on  Joseph's ;  and 
arrayed  him  in  vestures  of  fine  linen ;  and  thus  he 


THE   PRODIGAL    RECEIVED    AND   WELCOME.    115 

was  advanced  to  the  highest  office  in  the  land. 
Likewise  upon  the  advancement  of  ]\Iordecai,  the 
king  gave  him  the  ring,  which  he  had  taken  from 
Haman,  when  that  man  was  deprived  of  his  office. 
These  rings  were  generally  signet-rings,  by  which 
documents  could  be  sealed  in  the  king's  name.  The 
giving  the  ring  to  the  prodigal,  denoted  his  perma- 
nent re-establishment  in  his  father's  house. 

And  thus  permanently  is  the  believer  established 
in  the  family  of  God.  He  is  adopted.  The  pres- 
ence of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  his  heart,  by  whom  he  is 
sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption,  is  the  ring  of 
adoption  ;  or,  as  Paul  says,  speaking  of  this  Father 
— "  who  hath  also  sealed  us,  and  given  the  earnest 
o£-  the  Spirit  in  our  hearts,"  2  Cor.  i.  22.  The  be- 
liever is  not  his  own,  but  God's  ;  he  obeys  him.  By 
bringing  forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance  he  is  doing 
the  will  of  his  Father  in  heaven.  Well  may  the 
adopted  child  of  God  exclaim,  in  the  language  of 
the  faithful  in  Isaiah,  "  I  will  greatly  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  my  soul  shall  be  joyful  in  my  God ;  for  he 
hath  clothed  me  with  the  garments  of  salvation,  he 
hath  covered  me  with  the  robe  of  righteousness,  as 
a  bridegroom  decketh  himself  with  ornaments,  and 
as  a  bride  adorneth  herself  with  her  jewels."  Isaiah 
Ixi.  10. 

''''Put  shoes  on  Ms  feet ^'^  said  the  father.  The 
son  returned  without  shoes.  When,  therefore,  the 
father  commanded  them  to  be  put  on,  it  was  carry- 
ing out  still  further  his  intention  not  to  treat  that 


116  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

son  as  a  servant ;  for  they  did  not  wear  shoes.  This 
adds  another  to  the  images  which  signify  that  God 
will  treat  with  kindness  and  affection  those  who 
return  to  him.  Or,  as  the  Psalmist  has  it,  "  The_ 
Lord  will  withhold  no  good  thing  from  those  who 
walk  uprightly."  Shoes  were  to  protect  the  feet; 
and  God  protects  his  returning  children.  They 
need  it.  The  devil  tries  hard  to  get  them  back. 
Many  will  be  the  temptations  to  leave  the  Father. 
Nature  is  only  imperfectly  renewed  ;  its  propensi- 
ties are  still  depraved.  A  deceitful  heart  may  yet 
lead  astray.  The  believer  needs  this  protecting 
power  of  God,  that  the  work  of  sanctification  may 
progress  in  the  soul.  And  so,  perhaps,  without 
attempting  a  fanciful  interpretation,  w^e  may  say, 
that  as  the  robe  represents  justification,  and  the 
ring  represents  adoption,  the  shoes  also  represent 
sanctification.  Because  it  is  by  the  protection  ajid 
assistance  of  the  Holy  Ghost  that  the  believer  ad- 
vances in  holiness.  Possessed  of  this,  the  work  is 
sure.  He  is  unconquerable.  God  has  given  the 
complete  armour. 

"  There's  not  a  chain, 
That  hellish  foes  confederate  for  his  harm, 
Can  wind  around  him,  but  he  casts  it  off 
"With  as  much  ease  as  Samson  his  green  withes." 

The  reception  of  the  prodigal  caused  rejoicing  in 
that  family.  And  in  accordance  with  human  nature, 
2,  feast  was  made  to  express  the  joy  at  his  return. 
For  by  festivity  do    men    express  their   gladness. 


THE    PRODIGAL   RECEIVED    AND   WELCOME.      117 

"Bring  hither  the  fatted  calf  and  kill  it;  and  let 
us  eat  and  be  merrj."  The  wealthier  husbandmen 
"were  provided  with  fatted  calves,  to  meet  any  sud- 
den and  extraordinary  call  upon  their  hospitality. 
Veal  was  reckoned  a  great  delicacy  among  the 
Orientals;  taking  very  much  the  place  of  poultry 
with  us. 

The  occasion  was  also  made  gleeful  by  music  and 
dancing.  And  does  our  Lord  by  this  sanction 
dancing  ?  Does  he  pronounce  anything  in  its  favour 
by  the  connection  in  which  he  puts  it  ?  This  des- 
cription by  no  means  opens  up  the  lawfulness,  or 
unlawfulness,  of  dancing  as  we  understand  it.  For 
the  whole  question  may  be  dismissed  by  a  single 
statement.  The  dancing  here  alluded  to,  was  not 
of  that  kind  with  which  we  are  familiar.  For  the 
dances  of  the  Jews  were  performed  by  the  sexes 
separately.  There  is  no  evidence  from  Sacred 
History  that  the  diversion  was  promiscuously  en- 
joyed, except  it  may  be  at  the  erection  of  the 
golden  calf  at  Sinai,  when,  in  imitation  of  the 
Egyptian  festival  of  Apis,  all  classes  of  tlie  He- 
brews intermingled  in  the  frantic  revelry.  In  the 
sacred  dances,  although  both  sexes  seem  to  have 
borne  a  part  in  the  procession  or  chorus,  they  re- 
mained in  distinct  or  separate  companies.  This 
feature  is  retained  in  those  dances  which  form  a 
part  of  the  worship  of  the  Shaking  Quakers.  Not- 
withstanding the  strong  partiality  cherished  for  this 
amusement,  it  was  considered  beneath  the  dignity 


118  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

of  persons  of  rank  and  character  to  practise  it.  The 
words  of  Cicero — "  that  no  one  dances  unless  he  is 
either  drunk  or  mad,"  express  the  prevailing 
opinion  as  to  the  impropriety  of  respectable  per- 
sons taking  part  in  it.  TJie_Jews  left  dancing  to 
the  women,  who  made  it  an  especial  mode  of  ex- 
pressing their  feelings.  Hence,  companies  of 
women  would,  by  dancing  around  a  returning  army, 
express  their  joy  at  their  safe  return.  The  gay 
circles  of  Rome  and  its  provinces  derived  all  their 
entertainment,  as  is  done  in  the  East  to  this  day, 
from  the  exhibition  of  professional  dancers.*  Did 
modern  society  thus  hire  the  dancers  as  well  as  the 
music,  many  troubled  consciences  would  have  rest. 
From  all  this  it  will  be  perceived  that  dancing  on 
this  festive  occasion  of  the  prodigal's  return,  makes 
nothing  for  the  practice  among  us. 

But  the  idea  conveyed  is  this — the  return  of  that 
younger  son  caused  great  joy.  And  so  we  believe 
there  is  joy  at  the  return  of  the  sinner  to  God.  It 
is  worthy  of  notice,  that  joy  over  the  lost  found 
constitutes  the  closing  scene  of  each  parable.  The 
man  who  lost  his  sheep,  when  he  cometh  home,  "  call- 
eth  together  his  friends  and  neighbours,  saying  unto 
them.  Rejoice  with  me  ;  for  I  have  found  my. sheep 
which  was  lost."  The  woman,  who  had  lost  the 
piece  of  money,  "  calleth  her  friends  and  her  neigh- 
bours together,  saying.  Rejoice  with  me ;  for  I  have 
found  the  piece  which  I  had  lost.    Likewise,  I  say  un- 

*  Kitto's  Cyclopedia,  and  Smith's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible. 


THE    PRODIGAL   RECEIVED    AND    WELCOME.    119 

to  you,  there  is  joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of 
God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth."  But  how  do  the 
anorels  know  when  a  sinner  is  converted  from  the 
error  of  his  ways  ?  Is  the  announcement  made  in 
the  heavenly  region  ?  We  may  not  speculate  on 
these  things.  We  must  not  attempt  to  uncover  what 
God  has  hidden.  Our  place  now  is  in  the  outer 
court,  among  the  earthly  worshippers  ;  when  we  en- 
ter the  Holy  of  Holies,  we  shall  understand  all  about 
this  joy.  But  one  valuable  truth  is  certainly  pre- 
sented by  all  these  exhibitions  of  joy — viz  :  the 
conversion  of  one.  sou\  is  a  matter  of  the  utmost 
IMPORTANCE.  And  this  harmonizes  with  the  teach- 
ings of  Scripture,  which  impress  on  us  the  value  of 
even  one  human  being  in  the  sight  of  God.  And 
in  no  language  is  this  presented,  more  penetrating, 
than  in  the  sublime  question  of  our  Lord — "  What 
shall  it  profit  a  man,  though  he  gain  the  whole  world, 
and  lose  his  own  soul ;  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in 
exchange  for  his  soul!"  Christianity  attaches  a 
value  to  the  individual,  which  is  found  in  no  other 
religion.  It  does  not  absorb  him  in  one  all-com- 
prehending Deity  ;  nor  does  it  make  him,  as  in  Pan- 
theism, like  one  cog  in  a  great  wheel  of  humanity. 
He  is  himself  now,  and  ever  shall  be.  And  there- 
fore God  prizes  him,  even  as  He  does  an  angel. 
Hence  arises  the  ardent  zeal  of  Christianity  for 
every  soul — no  matter  how  degraded,  ignorant,  or 
besotted.  For  it  sees  in  that  soul  a  priceless  jewel. 
And  therefore  it  pants  to  put  it  in  Jesus'  crown. 


120  THE    PRODIQAL    SOX. 

And  it  must  ever  make  superhuman  effort  to  save 
every  creature.  Nor  can  it  cease,  until  all  nations 
are  brought  home  again.  Here  is  the  spirit  of 
missions.      Tins  is  its  fountain  head. 

Heaven  rejoices  and  so  does  the  converted  soul. 
God  gladdens  the  heart  of  the  returning  sinner. 
As  the  prodigal  sat  at  that  reunion  feast,  he  found 
its  merriness  affording  far  richer  joj  than  he  had 
experienced  in  all  his  riotous  living.  And  as  the 
believer  receives  the  tokens  of  God's  favour  in  his 
heart,  he  prizes  the  few  hours  of  this  peace  and  joy 
in  believing,  more  than  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world. 
Religion  is  a  continual  feast  to  his  soul.  To  pray 
and  praise  is  a  most  delightful  employment.  The 
soul,  tossed  by  convictions  of  sin,  now  anchors  in 
the  quiet  waters  of  God's  reconciliation.  The 
clouds  roll  away.  The  sun  shines.  All  nature  is 
joyous.  Everything  wears  a  new  aspect.  Nature 
even  seems  more  significant ;  for  every  part  of  it 
has  something  to  say  to  him  of  the  love  and  good- 
ness of  God. 

«'  Oh  I  what  tongue  can  express 
The  sweet  comfort  and  peace 
Of  a  soul  in  its  earliest  love  ? 

Oh  !  the  rapturous  height 

Of  that  holy  delight, 
"Which  I  felt  in  the  life-giving  blood  ! 

Of  my  Saviour  possessed, 

I  was  perfectly  blessed, 
As  if  filled  with  the  fulness  of  God. 


THE  PRODIGAL  RECEIVED  AND  WELCOME.  121 

Then  all  the  day  long, 

Was  my  Jesus  niy  song, 
And  redemption  through  faith  in  his  name : 

Oh  that  all  might  believe, 

And  salvation  receive, 
And  their  song  and  their  joy  be  the  same  !" 

It  may  be,  dear  reader,  that  with  a  sigh  you  ex- 
claim, such  a  glorious  and  loving  reception,  so 
speedy  and  so  full,  I  never  experienced  with  all  my 
repentance.  Yet  you  need  not  despair  of  attaining 
it.  Nor  should  you  write  bitter  things  against 
yourself.  Think  less  of  your  sins,  and  more  of 
Jesus.  Lol  where  stood  that  mountain  of  sin,  the 
cross  is  now  planted.  "Often  the  heart  may  be 
right,  earnest,  sincerely  loving  God,  while  the  mind 
may  be  much  clouded,  and  the  heavenly  light  seem 
but  the  merest  dawn  upon  the  soul.  But  the  soul 
willing  to  receive  Jesus  as  the  way,  and  to  be  satis- 
fied with  him ;  as  its  truth,  and  to  be  contented 
therewith ;  as  its  life,  and  to  rejoice  therein,  in  the 
spirit  of  trusting,  choosing  love, — is  surely  safe, 
and  surely  right,  however  obscure  may  be  some  of 
its  views,  and  however  short  of  the  truth  may  be 
some  of  its  conclusions.  Jesus  will  not  break  the 
bruised  reed,  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax.  The 
one  he  will  bind  up  and  strengthen,  the  other  he  will 
fan  into  a  bright  flame.  Your  heart  may  be  ready 
to  sink  with  fears.  You  may  ask  a  hundred  times, 
if  I  am  truly  loving  and  seeking  God,  why  am  I 
thus  ?  But  you  are  under  Divine  guidance,  and  on 
a  new  and  heavenward  path.  Intermit  none  of  your 
11 


122  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

religious  duties.  Praise  God  with  the  best  powers 
you  have.  Love  him,  and  go  tell  him  you  love  him. 
Trust  him,  and  doubt  not  his  readiness  to  bless  you. 
Believe  in  Jesus  Christ.  Take  the  Lord  as  he  is 
offered  to  you  in  his  word.  Make  him  your  only 
portion.  And  however  weak  your  faith  may  be,  it 
is  that  faith  which  is  the  gift  of  God ;  which  is  real 
and  failcth  not."* 

•  Dr.  Tvnsr. 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.    123 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN. 

Koiv  his  elder  son  was  in  the  field;  and  as  he 
came  and  drew  nigh  to  the  house,  he  heard  music 
and  dancing.  And  he  called  one  of  the  servants 
and  asked  what  these  things  meant.  And  he  said 
unto  him,  Thy  brother  is  come  ;  and  thy  father  hath 
hilled  the  fatted  calf ,  because  he  hath  received  him 
safe  and  sound.  And  he  was  angry  and  would  not 
go  in;  therefore  came  his  father  out  and  entreated 
him.  And  he  answering  said  to  his  father,  Lo,  these 
many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  neither  transgressed  I 
at  any  time  thy  commandment ;  and  yet  thou  never 
gavest  me  a  kid,  that  I  might  make  merry  with  my 
friends  ;  hut  as  soon  as  this  thy  son  ivas  come,  which 
hath  devoured  thy  living  ivith  harlots,  thou  hast  killed 
for  him  the  fatted  calf  .  And  he  said  unto  him.  Son, 
thou  art  ever  ivith  me  ;  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine. 
It  ivas  meet  that  we  should  make  merry  and  he  glad  ; 
for  this  thy  brother  was  dead  and  is  alive  again ; 
and  was  lost  and  is  found. 

At  the  opening  of  this  parable  of  the  Prodigal 
Son,  we  are  informed,   "  A  certain  man  had  two 


124  THE    PRODIGAL   SON. 

sons.*'  The  history  of  the  younger  we  have  con- 
cluded. Now  that  of  the  other  opens.  And  what 
part  does  he  bear  ?  How  are  we  to  explain  his  de- 
meanour ?  It  has  a  meaning  ;  for  it  is  more  than  the 
mere  filling  up. 

Many  have  been  the  puzzling  questions  raised 
over  it.  Undoubtedly  the  primary  design  was  to 
rebuke  the  Pharisees,  who  complained  that  publicans 
and  sinners  came  freely  to  Christ.  They  could  not 
but  apply  to  themselves  the  heartless  and  supercil- 
ious conduct  of  the  elder  brother.  We  may  under- 
stand that  the  younger  son  personates  the  Gentiles, 
while  the  elder  represents  the  Jews  ;  but  does  it 
reach  no  wider  ?  Or  has  it  a  never-failing  applica- 
tion ?  As  we  discover  the  prodigal  in  every  place, 
in  every  man,  at  some  time  of  his  history ;  can  we 
not  discover  also  this  elder  son  ?  Errors  have  arisen 
from  a  desire  to  explain  details  of  this  portion  of 
the  parable.  Some  of  the  details  are  merely  the 
earthly  picture,  the  pigment,  with  which  we  need 
not  expect  anything  in  the  moral  or  religious  to 
correspond.  Let  us  rather  inquire  what  is  the  main 
idea.  And  as  a  necessary  and  preparatory  step,  let 
us  regard  the  import  of  the  whole  parable.  What- 
ever it  may  have  been  to  those  who  heard  it  from 
our  Lord's  lips,  certainly  to  us  it  can  have  but  one 
purport.  It  is  a  life-sketch  of  7nan  sinning  and 
God  receiving  him  ;  how  man  is  to  come,  and  how 
God  receives  him.  It  is  sin  and  redemption  in  epi- 
tome.    The  whole,  therefore,  must  have   a  bearing 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.  125 

on  this  subject — tlie  elder  son  equally  with  the 
younger.  While  the  wandering  of  that  youth  fur- 
nishes an  apt  illustration  of  the  apostasy  and  de- 
generacy of  man ;  he  particularly  personifies  the 
open  and  covert  transgressor.  Now,  is  there  any 
otjier  class  among  us  to  be  represented  ?  Certainly. 
Are  there  not  in  all  communities  the  moral  and  up- 
right, against  whom  not  even  suspicion  breathes  a 
word  ?  Are  there  not  those  who  can  say  as  did  the 
youth  to  our  Lord,  *'  All  these  [commandments] 
have  I  kept  from  my  youth  up;"  and  concerning 
whom  Christ  can  reply,  "  Thou  art  not  far  from  the 
kingdom  of  heaven?"  To  me  the  elder  son  is  an 
apt  illustration  of  this  class,  of  those  who  are  de- 
nominated moral  men,  as  distinguished  from  the 
pious  man.  In  old  theology  these  were  termed 
legalists — those  striving  to  reach  heaven  by  their 
own  goodness.  My  object  now  is  to  trace  out  the 
resemblance  between  the  elder  son  and  this  class. 

A  prominent  fact  in  regard  to  the  elder  son  was, 
that  he  remained  at  home.  No  demon  of  discontent 
had  allured  him  away  from  the  father's  house.  He 
seems  to  have  been  dutiful  and  industrious.  He 
was  at  work  in  the  fields,  taking  care  of  his  father's 
estate,  when  the  prodigal  came  home.  In  like  man- 
ner with  this  class  I  have  mentioned  ;  they  have 
not  tarnished  their  characters ;  they  have  main- 
tained a  fair  name.  Into  no  paths  of  vice,  or  of 
improper  conduct  have  they  wandered  ;  they  have 
remained  at  home ;  and  in  a  measure  have  been 
11  * 


126  THB    PRODIGAL    SON. 

zealous  for  God's  cause,  and  for  the  advancement 
of  religion,  purity,  and  all  the  virtues.  Largely 
they  have  contributed  to  the  support  and  extension 
of  the  gospel — much  more,  many  of  them,  than  have 
the  majority  of  the  professed  followers  of  Christ. 
Even  the  church  herself  has  leaned  upon  them. 
They  love  us,  and  have  built  us  synagogues.  Noble 
men  they  are  !  Most  praise-worthy  is  their  con- 
duct !  We  cannot  help  asking,  what  would  the 
church  do  without  them?  Their  loss  would  be  as 
deeply  felt,  as  would  have  been  the  absence  of  the 
elder  brother  from  that  household. 

But  though  he  remained  at  home,  he  hgd^not  the 
spirit  of  a  son  nor  of  a  brother.  His  demeanour  was 
correct.  Men  could  discern  no  fault.  He  had  not 
been  guilty  of  the  excesses  w'hich  disgraced  the 
younger  son  ;  yet  at  heart  he  was  no  better  than 
that  wanderer  had  been.  For  see  how  he  acted. 
As  he  approached  the  house,  he  heard  the  sounds 
of  festivity.  He  inquired  what  it  meant.  A  ser- 
vant informed  him  that  the  long-lost  brother,  his 
only  brother,  had  come  back.  At  these  words  does 
he  not  rush  in,  just  as  he  is,  in  the  garb  of  toil,  and 
clasp  that  brother  in  his  arms  ?  No  !  A  demon 
of  hate  and  sullenness  possesses  him.  "  He  was 
angry,  and  would  not  go  in."  And  what  was  he 
ano"ry  about  ? — that  for  this  brother,  restored  as 
from  the  dead,  a  feast  should  be  made.  He  could 
have  rejoiced  if  a  strayed  sheep  had  come  back  to 
the  fold,  but  when  it  is  his  own  brother  he  is  angry ; 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  xM0R4L  MAN.     127 

not  indifferent,  but  angry.  Alas  !  what  a  sorry- 
picture  of  the  heart  does  this  present.  Well  may 
we  say,  he  had  not  a  right  spirit. 

Can  we  apply  this  to  the  moralist  ?  Yes  !  for 
they  have  not  the  right  spirit.  Can  they  claim  to 
be  the  sons  of  God,  when  they  have  an  unfilial 
spirit  ?  For  unless  God  be  supreme  in  the  heart, 
there  is  an  unfilial  spirit.  The  heart  gives  value 
to  all  we  do.  How  the  obedience  of  this  elder  son 
depreciates  in  our  estimation,  when  this  ungenerous 
feeling  breaks  out !  At  once  we  grow  suspicious  of 
the  whole  man.  We  are  prepared  for  some  other 
ignoble  manifestation  of  heart.  And  can  this 
obedience  of  yours,  my  moral  reader,  upon  which 
you  are  wont  to  look  with  so  much  satisfaction,  be 
of  any  more  value  than  the  elder  brother's,  if  ac- 
companied by  a  similar  heart  ?  Consider  for  a  mo- 
ment whether  God  can  regard  these  externals  of 
service ;  or,  to  go  deeper,  whether  he  can  be  satis- 
fied with  that  RESPECT  you  bear  him.  Not  for  an 
instant  do  we  speak  disparagingly  of  your  service, 
as  though  it,  or  you,  were  hypocritical ;  or  as  though 
you  designed  it  as  a  subterfuge.  What  you  do  is 
commendable,  and  would  that  all  men  were  of  the 
same  character.  We  do  not  object  to  these  acts 
themselves  ;  but  we  do  protest  against  your  making 
THEM  your  religion,  your  mediator,  your  Christ — 
that  which  shall  atone  for  sins.  These  acts  of  ser- 
vice cannot  make  a  ladder  long  enough,  strong 
enough  to  reach  from  earth  to  heaven.     Like  Cbal- 


128  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

mers  and  Scott,  when  they  first  began  to  preach, 
and  before  they  saw  themselves  to  be  wretched  sin- 
ners, needing  a  divine  Saviour,  you  can  discourse 
on  the  attributes  of  the  Deity.  But  your  system,  as 
did  theirs,  goes  not  beyond  sublime  ideas  of  the 
divine  omnipresence,  omnipotence,  omniscience,  and 
goodness ;  combined  with  some  lively  conceptions 
of  the  character,  the  teaching,  and  the  example  of 
Jesus  Christ  the  author  of  Christianity.  You  go 
into  a  rapturous  adoration  of  the  Great  Being,  but 
there  you  stop.  What  you  lack  is  Christ.  What 
place  do  you  assign  Him  in  your  system  ?  God  the 
Father  is  there,  but  where  is  God  the  Son?  And  do 
you  inquire,  what  need  of  God  the  Son  for  me  ?  Just 
the  need  which  that  Son  himself  declared — "  He  that 
honoureth  the  Son,  honoureth  the  Father  also ;  he  that 
honoureth  not  the  Son  honoureth  not  the  Father." 
The  absence  of  a  filial  spirit  in  the  elder  brother 
is  further  evident,  from  the  manner  in  which  he 
met  the  father's  entreaty  that  he  would  lay  aside 
his  anger.  "  Lo,  these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee, 
neither  transgressed  I  at  any  time  thy  command- 
ments." Proud  words,  which  reveal  and  condemn 
himself  without  needing  any  further  testimony. 
*'  These  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,''  is  the  key- 
note upon  which  the  whole  strain  is  pitched.  As 
though  he  were  not  that  very  moment  transgressing 
the  two  laws — thou  shalt  honour  thy  father,  thou 
shalt  love  thy  brother.*     Precisely  in  this  strain 

•  Stier's  Words  of  Je^us. 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.   129 

the  Pharisee  prayed — ''  God,  I  thank  thee  that  I 
am  not  as  other  men,  extortioners,  unjust,  adulter- 
ers, or  even  as  this  publican.  I  fast  twice  in  the 
week,  I  give  tithes  of  all  I  possess." 

A  similar  spirit  is  seen  in  the  legalist.  "  Do  I 
not  serve  thee  ?"  is  the  secret  question  ever  put  to 
God.  "  What  more  would  you  have  me  do  ?  Can 
any  man  bring  a  complaint  against  my  conduct? 
Whom  have  I  injured  ?  The  Sabbath  I  have  ob- 
served. The  sanctuary  I  have  frequented.  Bo  I 
not  serve  Thee?"  No!  for  you  have  never  pene- 
trated into  the  heart  of  God's  service.  "  Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  ivitli  all  tliy  hearty  and 
with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength."  Do 
you  serve  him  by  prayer,  and  love,  and  faith  ?  And 
there  is  pride  in  this  question.  You  challenge  God 
to  search  out  secret  faults  ;  can  you  abide  his  inves- 
tigation of  thought,  and  word,  and  motive,  and 
feeling  ?  Oh  learn  these  three  fearful  truths.  "  Wii 
may;  think  ourselves  to  be  keeping  all  the  command- 
ments of  God,  while  keeping  in  our  heart  the 
principle  of  all  transgression,  pride  of  heart.  We 
may  boast  of  our  own  righteousness  while  comrait- 
ing,  in  the  very  boast,  the  heaviest  sins.  We  may 
live  among  all  the  gifts  of  grace  in  their  actual 
offer,  and  seeming  possession,  and  yet  not  possess 
or  receive  them  at  all."* 

Indeed,  let  none  of  us  forget  ourselves  in  this 
pride  and  envy  of  the  elder  son.     We  witness  in 
*  Stier's  Words  of  Jesus,  vol.  4,  p.  IGl. 


130  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

him  a  life-like  scene.  That  spirit  which  regards 
with  envy  the  superior  attainments,  advantages,  or 
position  of  another ;  that  which  asks  why  God  has 
given  them  what  he  withholds  from  us  ;  in  health,  or 
comforts,  or  prosperity  ;  that  which  reasons  we 
might  fare  as  well  as  these  sinners — is  the  spirit  of 
the  elder  brother.  The  eccentric,  but  most  devout 
and  genuine  Daniel  Krummacher,  of  Elberfield, 
was  once  asked,  in  an  assembly  of  his  brethren 
discussing  this  question,  who,  in  his  view,  was  the 
elder  son.  He  solemnly  said,  "  I  well  know  now, 
for  I  learned  it  yesterday."  Being  asked  further, 
he  laconically  said.  Myself!  and  then  confessed 
that  yesterday  it  had  fretted  his  heart  to  find  that 
a  very  ill-conditioned  person  had  suddenly  been 
enriched  with  a  remarkable  visitation  of  grace. 

Another  remark  of  the  elder  brother  presents  a 
feature  of  the  moralist's  experience.  In  his  petu- 
lant reply  to  his  father,  he  said,  "  Thou  never 
gavest  me  a  kid,  that  I  might  make  merry  with  my 
friends."  No  doubt  this  was  incorrect.  Petulance 
leads  to  exaggeration,  if  not  positive  falsehood.  Be- 
sides, he  was  angry  ;  and  an  angry  man's  talk  must 
be  received  with  caution.  If  he  had  never  invited 
his  friends  to  a  festival,  it  was  because  he  did  not 
want  them.  His  father  did  not  stand  in  the  way  of 
any  such  enjoyment.  It  is  evident  that  lie  had  no 
joy  in  his  service  of  the  father.  It  was  a  harsh, 
constrained  villainage,  while  he  constantly  yearned 
for  by-pleasures  in  which  he  dare  not  engage. 


THE  ELDER  BKOTIIER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.      131 

All  this  is  literally  true  of  the  legalist.  He  has 
not  even  a  kid  over  which  to  rejoice.  It  is  all  hard 
work  with  him.  He  looks  over  the  fence  with 
wistful  eyes.  And  if  he  were  not  afraid  of  losing 
his  soul,  he  would  become  the  prodigal.  Of  the 
joy  of  forgiveness  which  thrills  the  heart  of  the 
converted  sinner,  he  knows  nothing.  He  tries  to 
practise  the  Christian's  self-denial,  without  the 
heavenly  comforts  which  assist  the  believer.  He  is 
a  stranger  to  keeping  the  commandment  from  the 
spontaneous  impulse  of  love.  The  enjoyments  of 
godliness  he  has  never  experienced.  The  blessed- 
ness of  a  religious  life  has  never  visited  him.  He 
abides  in  the  cold  atmosphere  of  his  own  self- 
sufficiency.  He  is  his  own  blessedness.  He  seeks 
it  not  in  Christ.  Prayer  and  praise  are  only  the 
accompaniments  of  his  worship ;  they  are  not  the 
overflowings  of  the  heart.  He  tries  to  draw  plea- 
sures by  tapping  earthly  cisterns  ;  but  they  soon 
fail.  He  is  always  changing,  and  never  realizes 
any  abiding  good. 

The  elder  son  could  not  understand  why  there 
should  be  so  warm  a  welcome  to  Ms  profligate  brother. 
Had  he  not  disgraced  the  family?  Had  he  not 
wasted  his  living  with  harlots  ?  What  was  there 
in  him  to  merit  so  much  regard  ? 

A  similar  difficulty  arises  in  the  mind  of  the 
moral  man.  If  these  men  of  disgraceful  lives,  and 
charged  with  flagrant  sins,  are  saved,  what  shall 
hinder  me,  who  have  none  of  these  sins  to  answer 


132  THE   PRODIGAL   SON. 

for  ?  The  atonement  of  the  Saviour  is  needed  for 
them,  to  wash  away  their  sins  ;  but  I  have  no  such 
sins  to  be  washed  away,  and  therefore,  I  do  not 
need  that  Saviour.  But  what  credit  can  you  claim 
for  not  falling  into  his  sins  ?  Have  you  been 
severely  tempted  to  them  ?  Is  not  much  of  our 
morality  due  to  favourable  circumstances  ?  Educa- 
tion, family,  position,  temperament,  have  been 
powerful  checks  which  have  saved  us  from  excesses. 
Therefore,  we  must  judge  of  our  guilt  from  another 
point.  We  must  look  at  other  than  heinous  trans- 
gression. Certainly  we  cannot  claim  to  be  innocent 
of  a  thousand  sins  of  thought  and  heart.  All  malice, 
envy,  hatred,  however  feebly  they  may  show  them- 
selves within  us,  are  sinful.  However  we  regard 
them,  the  law  of  the  Lord  declares  them  to  be  vile. 
In  Levitical  worship  sacrifice  was  required  for  trifl- 
ing sins  ;  and  even  for  sins  of  ignorance,  i.  e.  acts, 
which  at  the  tiine,  a  man  did  not  perceive  to  be 
sinful.  Yet  he  must  confess  them,  and  seek  pardon 
for  them.  Now,  this  teaches  just  what  the  gospel 
asserts — that  for  every  idle  thought  and  word  we 
are  to  be  brought  into  judgment.  And  the  unfilial, 
undevout  heart,  concerning  w^hich  we  have  already 
spoken,  is  a  constant  sin. 

You  may  wonder  that  a  prodigal  can  be  received 
"while  you  are  rejected.  It  may  seem  all  wrong  ; 
and  yet  it  is  entirely  consonant  with  justice  and 
holiness.  He  is  received  because  he  repents,  turns 
from  his  evil  way,  loves  the  God  whom  he  disre- 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.  133 

garded,  and  desires,  above  all  things,  to  do  liis  will. 
He  obeys  not  from  fear,  or  out  of  respect,  but  be- 
cause he  loves  to  obey.  He  accepts  the  Saviour, 
while  you  reject  him.  And  that  very  Saviour  hated 
Sodom's  lewdness  and  open  vice ;  but  he  hated  yet 
more  Bethsaida's  heart  of  unbelief.  You  do  not 
repent.  You  have  no  new  nature.  Externally  you 
may  seem  the  better  man  ;  but  God,  who  regards  the 
heart,  sees  in  him  a  spirit  which  you  do  not  possess. 
You  deserve  much  less  the  name  of  son  than  he  does. 

Let  us  however  consider  this  somewhat  more  fully. 
For  its  importance  requires,  that  we  should  not  dis- 
miss it  in  this  brief  manner. 

You  are  ever  comparing  your  good  works  with 
the  Christian's  conduct.  And  because,  in  your  es- 
timation, those  deeds  seem  as  virtuous  and  as 
praiseworthy  as  his,  you  cannot  understand  how  it 
can  be,  that  if  the  Christian  is  saved,  you  cannot 
be  saved,  when  you  have  an  equal,  perhaps  a  larger, 
amount  of  good  works.  No  doubt  this  is  a  serious 
difficulty  to  many  a  thoughtful  mind.  We  will  en- 
deavour to  show  the  radical  mistakes  of  the  moralist 
as  he  thus  reasons. 

With  him  there  is  an  absence  of  Gfodas  the  cJiief 
object  of  thought  and  affection.  The  Psalmist's  frame 
of  mind,  was,  ''  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ? 
and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside 
thei?."  Every  child  of  God  finds  the  same  senti- 
ment in  some  degree  pervading  his  soul.  But  no- 
thing like  this  is  found  in  the  heart  of  the  merely 
12 


134  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

moral  man.  And  the  want  of  it  is  like  the  absence 
of  sunlight.  There  is  no  warmth  of  piety,  and  no 
growth  of  plants  of  grace.  It  affects  all  he  does. 
It  gives  a  tinge  and  a  tone  even  to  every  good  act. 
The  absence  of  that  filial  temper  of  dependence, 
veneration,  and  love,  which  should  be  the  natural 
bent  of  the  soul  towards  God,  constitutes  the  fatal 
defect  in  those  amiable,  lovely  persons,  who  by  their 
virtues  shame  the  inconsistencies  of  professing 
Christians.  The  best  affections  are  bestowed  on 
everything  but  God.  The  loveliest  natures  do  thus 
virtually  exile  him  from  the  world  which  he  has 
made  and  daily  sustains.  Kindness,  gratitude,  love, 
which  are  the  very  feelings  he  has  implanted,  take 
root,  grow,  and  blossom,  to  bear  fruit  for  all  but 
him. 

Well  may  he  exclaim,  "  I  have  nourished  and 
brought  up  children,  but  they  have  rebelled  against 
me."  Men  love  and  hate — and  often  rightly  too, — 
but  without  thought  of  God's  will.  They  are  not 
guided  in  their  likes  and  dislikes  by  the  law  of  God, 
by  that  which  he  pronounces  right  or  wrong.  Be- 
fore entering  upon  a  path  of  duty,  they  do  not  in- 
quire, "Lord,  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  to  do?" 
In  their  very  noblest  deeds  they  have  been  moved 
by  compassion  for  others,  or  by  some  human  motive, 
not  from  a  regard  to  what  God  requires.  He  has 
not  been  in  all  their  thoughts.  So  that  much  which 
is  beautiful  in  our  best  impulses,  is  beautiful  only 
as  the  flower  or  landscape  is  beautiful,  because  they 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.    135 

are  faultless  ;  but  not  beautiful,  as  is  a  holy  being 
who  is  good  in  himself;  good  because  he  is  like 
God ;  good  because  he  watches  and  obeys  the  Di- 
vine will.* 

'Now  this  pre-eminence  of  ^od  in  all  we  do  and 
think,  is  that  which  characterizes  the  Christian  ; 
while  the  lack  of  it  is  the  fatal  blemish  of  the  mor- 
alist. He  would  pay  a  tribute  to  God,  but  will  not 
bestow  the  whole  heart.  God  comes  in  as  one  of 
the  objects  of  life,  along  with  self-indulgence  and 
ambition.  He  has  not  learned  the  primary  truth 
that  his  chief  end  is  to  glorify  God  and  enjoy  him 
for  ever.  Just  here  we  begin  to  perceive  wherein 
the  virtues  of  the  one  differ  from  the  virtues  of  the 
other.  It  is  a  difference  not  distinguishable  by  all, 
hence  the  misjudgment  so  common  when  contrast- 
ing the  Christian  with  others. 

Let  us  illustrate  in  a  measure  this  difference. 
Place  a  corpse  beside  a  living  man,  and  contrast  the 
two.  The  living  man  has  a  head  with  eyes,  nose, 
mouth  and  cheeks,  so  has  the  corpse.  And  the  re- 
semblance may  be  even  more  exact,  for  the  corpse 
may  have  an  expressive  countenance,  the  look  of 
life,  aye,  almost  the  freshness  of  health.  And  pro- 
ceeding further,  if  you  were  to  examine  the  internal 
structure  of  each,  you  would  find  them  the  same 
there ;  for  the  dead  man  has  lungs,  heart,  veins  and 
blood,  and  all  the  vital  organism,  even  as  has  the 
living  man.  Wherein  consists  the  difference  ?  Each 
*  W.  Allen  Butler's  Sermons. 


136  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

has  a  heart — but  in  the  one  the  heart  beats,  in  the 
other  it  is  silent.  Each  has  veins,  but  the  blood 
courses  through  the  one  with  the  bound  of  life,  in 
the  other  it  is  chilled.  And  so  as  you  compare  the 
Christian  and  the  moralist,  you  perceive  a  simi- 
larity. Does  the  Christian  attend  church  regularly  ? 
so  does  the  moral  man.  Is  the  Christian  liberal  in 
his  gifts  for  the  Bible,  and  for  missions,  and  for  the 
varied  agencies  of  the  church  ?  equally  prompt  and 
liberal  is  the  moral  man.  In  all  outward  deport- 
ment, you  can  perceive  no  difference.  Where  then 
shall  we  find  it  ?  Just  where  we  discovered  the  dif- 
ference between  the  corpse  and  the  living  man, — at 
the  heart.  Each  has  a  heart  with  the  same  psycho- 
logical structure  of  thought  and  emotion,  but  the 
Christian's  heart  beats  in  sympathy  with  holy  and 
heavenly  things,  takes  a  delight  in  the  praise  and 
worship  of  its  Maker,  puts  all  its  hopes  in  him, 
leans  on  him  all  the  day  long,  loves  him,  and  thinks 
of  him.  It  holds  "  fellowship  with  the  Father,  and 
with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ."  The  story  of  the  cross 
melts  it  to  the  outflowing  of  tears.  But  that  other 
heart  lacks  all  these  blessed  emotions.  It  is  cold 
and  unfeeling  toward  God.  Now,  out  of  that  Chris- 
tian heart,  all  good  thoughts  and  words  flow  spon- 
taneously. Its  deeds  are  not  the  fabrications  of  the 
hands,  as  the  potter  moulds  the  clay  to  vessels  of 
beauty  ;  but  they  are  love's  own  offspring — the  out- 
goings of  a  heart  that  cannot  do  enough  for  God, 
and  which    is   ever  bewailing  its   feeble  efforts  to 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.    137 

glorify  him  who  redeemed  it  "with  his  own  precious 
blood.  The  moralist  is  ever  speaking  of  his  works, 
calling  attention  to  them,  and  asking  if  they  are 
not  perfect ;  while  the  Christian  is  silent,  or  only 
sighs,  after  having  done  all,  "  I  am  an  unprofitable 
servant." 

And  now  we  may  carry  our  figure  yet  further, 
and  place  beside  this  corpse  of  faultless  proportions, 
a  hunchback,  the  lineaments  of  whose  face  are  pain- 
fully ugly.  As  a  specimen  of  the  human  body,  how 
much  more  perfect,  harmonious,  and  attractive  is 
this  corpse!  Were  we  to  chisel  out  a  statue  fi'om 
the  marble,  certainly  Ave  should  choose  this  corpse 
for  our  model,  rather  than  the  hunchback.  And 
yet,  who  does  not  regard  the  hunchback  more 
than  the  corpse  ?  we  bury  the  latter,  but  protect 
and  assist  the  former.  Why  is  this  ?  Ah !  the 
hunchback,  with  all  his  deformity,  is  a  living  man. 
And  now,  put  in  contrast  our  perfect  moral  man, 
with  the  faulty  Christian.  If  we  were  to  choose  a 
pattern  of  manliness,  w^e  would  imitate  the  former  ; 
for  in  him  are  amiabilities,  and  noble  traits  which 
make  us  love  him.  His  record  is  unblotted,  while 
the  Christian  has  fallen  into  sin  and  been  reclaimed. 
And  yet  this  Christian,  with  his  unlovely  traits,  is 
a  true  child  of  God,  with  a  heart  right  in  God's 
sight.  He  deplores  his  frailties,  and  strives  against 
them.  Secret  places  witness  his  deep  abasement 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  He  cries  out  all  night  for 
pardon,  and  deliverance  from  sin.  He  loves  God 
VI* 


138  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

with  all  his  heart,  and  would  cheerfully  go  to  the 
martyr's  stake.  He  is  a  faulty  Christian,  but  may 
not  God  love  him,  even  as  we  prefer  the  ugly-look- 
ing hunchback  to  the  cold,  lifeless  corpse  ?  May 
not  God  see  more  in  that  Christian  to  admire,  than 
in  the  faultless,  but  heartless  moralist  ? 

With  this  light  we  may  comprehend  how  David, 
guilty  though  he  was  of  heinous  crimes,  could  yet 
be  called  the  mayi  after  God's  own  heart.  Notwith- 
standing these  blemishes  God  loved  him.  For  God 
was  to  him  "the  chief  end."  His  worship  was 
more  dear  than  palace,  friends,  or  family.  For 
when  an  exile  for  a  few  days,  his  irrepressible  de- 
sire was  that  he  might  again  come  to  the  sanctuary 
of  God.  In  all  the  Psalms,  David's  piety  is  clearly 
seen,  with  his  unflinching  trust  in  God,  and  his 
longing  that  Jehovah's  name  should  be  magnified. 
These  traits  of  the  inner  man  made  David  the 
model ;  so  that  even  of  the  best  of  his  successors  it 
was  only  said,  "  He  did  not  walk  after  God  with  a 
perfect  heart,  as  did  David  his  father." 

Now,  it  may  seem  strange  that  God  can  take  de- 
light in  men  manifestly  so  imperfect.  But  let  us 
ever  remember  the  words  of  Samuel  to  Jesse — "  Man 
looketh  on  the  outward  appearance,  but  the  Lord 
looketh  on  the  heart."  And  here  it  is  that  the 
moral  man  faileth.  His  heart  is  astray  from  God. 
In  all  his  calculations  of  duty,  he  forgets  that  re- 
ligious affecticns  m.ust  exist  in  the  heart ;  and  that 
these   religious   affections   are   a  part  of  the  duty 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.    139 

which  God  requires  of  man.  His  attention  and  his 
efforts  are  directed  to  outward  things.  While  he 
acknowledges,  he  yet  is  not  really  impressed  with 
the  truth,  that  Grod  reads  the  thoughts  and  emotions. 
Hence,  almost  unconsciously,  he  deals  with  the  Om- 
niscient, as  though  he  could  go  no  farther  than  to 
what  is  said  or  done.  He  deceives  himself  with  the 
proposition,  that  as  a  fair  name  and  reputable  con- 
duct commend  him  to  men,  it  must  also  render  God 
favourable  to  him,  despite  the  state  of  his  heart. 
While  pressing  this  thought,  we  would  carefully 
guard  against  the  rebound  which  may  send  the 
mind  to  the  dangerous  extreme,  that  if  the  heart  is 
the  main  thing,  then  the  conduct  is  of  little  account. 
This  was  the  perversion  of  a  precious  truth,  which 
Paul  encountered,  and  which  he  meets  with  the 
question,  "  Shall  we  continue  in  sin,  that  grace  may 
abound?"  We  have  raised  no  bulwark  behind  which 
imperfect  Christians  ma}^  skulk  ;  nor  do  we  pretend 
that  their  sins  are  less  heinous  before  God,  than  the 
sins  of  others — we  rather  design  to  guard  against  a 
false  judgment,  which  prevails  in  the  minds  of  num- 
bers who  compare  their  lives  with  the  conduct  of 
Christians,  and  finding  them  equally  fiiir,  conclude 
that  if  these  are  saved,  they  shall  be ;  whereas,  it 
is  not  the  conduct  alone  which  is  to  be  regarded, 
but  also  the  heart.  It  is  to  save  from  so  deadly  an 
error  as  this,  that  we  endeavour  to  show,  that  an 
imperfect  Christian,  whose  heart  is  set  on  God,  may 
be  acceptable  to  him,  notwithstanding  his   defects. 


140  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

As  to  the  sins  and  misconduct  of  Christians,  God 
"Nvill  provide  a  punishment.  They  are  not  to  escape 
the  consequences  of  open  sin.  Most  severely  did 
David  suffer  for  his  sin  against  Uriah.  And  the 
believer,  as  well  as  the  unbeliever,  has  found  that 
the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard. 

That  we  are  correct,  in  thus  calling  the  attention 
of  the  moral  man  to  the  state  of  the  heart,  is  fur- 
ther evident,  from  the  fact  that  our  Lord  himself 
took  this  very  course,  in  the  well-known  interview 
with  Nicodemus.  That  man  was  strictly  moral. 
Indeed,  he  was  more,  for  he  is  presented  as  an  ex- 
ample of  the  devout  ritualist,  who  combined,  with  a 
reputable  name,  a  punctilious  observance  of  all  re- 
ligious ordinances.  You  will  notice  that  our  Savi- 
our, in  dealing  vrith  him,  pushes  aside  the  mantle 
of  respectability,  and  the  garments  of  the  virtues 
and  amiabilities,  and  cuts  through  the  flesh  of  re- 
ligious performances,  until  he  touches  the  heart. 
Reaching  that,  he  utters  the  startling  words,  "  It 
must  be  born  af]:ain." 

Dear  reader,  listen  to  those  words.  They  are 
intended  for  you,  else  they  had  not  been  preserved. 
For  what  is  Nicodemus  to  us  ?  Nothing.  But  the 
truth — a  foundation  truth  of  the  Bible — associated 
with  that  midnight  interview,  will  continue,  and  go 
wherever  this  gospel  is  preached.  The  great  truth 
for  you  to  learn  is,  that  you  must  be  renewed  in 
heart;  and  that  a  total  and  thorough  change  must 
take  place  there.     All  your   outward  amendments 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.  141 

are  but  the  garnishing  of  the  sepulchre.  In  your 
heart,  you  must  be  formed  again  after  the  image  of 
Him  who  created  us.  You  must  not  think  to  patch 
up  the  old  building,  repaint  it,  and  remodel  it ; 
you  must  begin  at  the  foundation.  There  must  be 
new  principles,  new  motives,  new  desires  implanted 
in  the  heart. 

Be  persuaded,  that  for  this,  there  can  be  no 
equivalent.  For  some  things  no  equivalent  can  be 
rendered.  They  cannot  be  commuted  for,  we 
must  perform  the  thing  itself,  and  in  our  own 
person,  or  be  held  delinquent.  There  can  be 
no  equivalent  for  filial  love.  The  child  may  out- 
wardly respect  his  parents,  may  lavish  presents 
upon  them,  and  never  allow  them  to  want,  but  would 
these  compensate  for  the  lack  of  love  ?  So  is  it  in 
our  relation  to  God.  He  demands  the  homage  of 
the  heart.  That  heart  was  so  constituted  by  him, 
as  to  be  able  to  render  homage.  Nothing  else  there- 
fore can  be  an  equivalent  for  that  homage.  If  we 
withhold  it,  and  in  its  place  ofi'er  our  virtues,  our 
amiabilities,  our  beneficence,  our  gifts  for  the  spread 
of  the  gospel,  our  co-operation  in  good  enterprises  ; 
we  are  not  thereby  rendering  God  an  equivalent  for 
the  love  he  demands.  "  Though  I  bestow  all  my 
goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  though  I  give  my  body 
to  be  burned,  and  have  not  love^  it  profiteth  me  no- 
thing." Yea,  more,  though  I  did  much  beyond 
this,  and  made  superior  religious  attainments,  and 
could  *'  speak  with  the   tongue  of  men  and  of  an- 


142  THE    PRODIGAL    SON. 

gels,  and  have  not  love,  I  am  become  as  sounding 
brass,  or  a  tinkling  cymbal.  And  though  I  had  the 
gift  of  prophecy,  and  understood  all  m^^steries  and 
all  knowledge,"  and  had  not  love,  I  would  be  no- 
thing. Because  I  might  have  these,  while  my  heart 
is  unmoved  by  love  to  my  Maker.  And  all  these 
could  not  compensate  for  the  want  of  love. 

The  parable  opens  with  a  happy  home,  and  closes 
with  that  home  again  made  joyful,  after  a  season  of 
sorrow.  And  the  Bible  opens  with  the  quiet  of 
Eden,  and  closes  with  the  joy  of  heaven  as  delin- 
eated in  the  new  Jerusalem.  A  similar  contrast 
may  be  drawn  in  our  individual  histories.  God  per- 
mits many  of  us  to  begin  our  existence  in  the  quiet 
of  an  earthly  home.  But  where  shall  that  exist- 
ence be  continued  ?  That  is  the  great  question. 
And  that  is  for  us  to  decide.  In  a  few  years  our 
final  condition  will  be  for  ever  determined.  Shall 
we  have  a  mansion  in  the  skies,  or  shall  we  roll 
amid  the  fiery  billows  of  hell  ?  Who  would  not 
have  a  home  in  heaven  ?  And  yet  there  is  danger 
of  losing  it.  For  unless  we  repent  and  believe  upon 
Jesus  Christ  we  cannot  be  saved.  Without  faith  it 
is  impossible  to  please  God.  Whatever  else  we 
have,  unless  we  are  resting  upon  Jesus  Christ  alone 
for  salvation,  we  have  not  that  which  renders  us 
acceptable  with  God. 

We  are  all  erring  children.  If  we  have  gone  to 
the  excesses  of  the  younger  son,  let  us  stop  now  in 
our  career  of  folly  and  wickedness,   and  return  to 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER  OR  THE  MORAL  MAN.    143 

our  Father.  If  we  have  not  been  open  sinners,  still 
we  shall  find  ourselves  delineated  in  the  elder  son. 
We  need  a  new  heart,  and  a  filial  spirit.  We  may 
have  the  form  of  godliness,  we  must  have  its  power 
in  sanctifying  the  afi'ections.  "  Turn  unto  the  Lord 
and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  us,  and  to  our  God  for 
he  will  abundantly  pardon." 


THE    END. 


BS2418.M921 
The  prodigal  son. 


Princeton  Theoogical  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00030  0899 


DATE    DUE 


GAYLORD 


OniMTcn  iM  1  I  o  A 


